The Supplejack
by Elizabeth234
Summary: Peter Parker was alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.
1. The Weaver

Hi everyone! Hope your week is going well! This is fulfilling a prompt I am doing on tumblr. You can find me there at elizabeth-234

It is 925: "The exasperation at that eternal shyness of yours."

Hope you like it :)

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"Come on, Peter. Come on." He shifted his feet back and forth across the carpet, lifting one on top of the other before the pressure became uncomfortable and he switched the stacking order. The throng of people before him, while shorter now, stretched way longer than he hoped. Who could blame them, though? This was Iron Man after all.

The announcement for the competition had been made at his school in the beginning of the year. The aesthetics of the advertisement took over the school, leaving modern and flashy print glued across the corkboards wherever you walked. Tony Stark was holding a science competition for his company, the S.T.A.R.K. or Stark Training: Aimed at Reaching Kids. That, in itself, would have been enough for Peter. Just being in the same room as Mr. Stark would send him into cardiac arrest so he was certainly going to need the shock of the defibrillators after this. Not only was Mr. Stark going to judge the competition, but also the prize was an internship at Stark Industries.

You can imagine the pandemonium created in the announcement's wake at Midtown. All the students and staff were in an uproar. You couldn't walk into a room without someone mentioning it and people were trading ideas like Pokémon cards. There was a rumor that some student had hired professionals to come up and develop an idea for them.

Peter did none of those things. He couldn't afford minions to crank out ideas and even if he could, he wouldn't have wanted to. The thought of using someone else's project plans didn't appeal to him. What was the point of competing if it wasn't your work?

The beginning rounds were held at the high school you attended and from there only two were selected to move on. Peter had been one of them. The other had been a boy named Seymour, much to the chagrin of his friend, Flash Thompson. He had seen the latter boys project one day when he had been showing it off at Decathlon practice. Loath as he was to admit it, it was a noteworthy concept. One that he thought for sure would win out against his own. Seymour had been the dark horse of the fight and in the end pulled ahead of Flash.

Peter left school late one day after the announcement was made. He had hid in the bathroom trying to avoid some of the students asking him questions about his project and slunk toward a rarely used stairway to evade the never-ending questions when he ran into Flash. The boy was slumped on the stairs, his head buried in his knees, and the barest of shaking emanated from his shoulders. Peter had wanted to turn around right then. To get out of the stairwell as fast as possible but it was to late. Flash's back went ridgid. The boy tried to brush the tracks off his face but Peter could see the swollen eyes that widened as his face blushed a dark red.

"What are you doing here Parker? Nobody wants you here." His voice bounced along the walls, echoing their venom. Peter really didn't care for Flash. The boy would always go out of his way to make Peter feel like crap but even after all of that, all the hungry lunches and ripped up assignments, Peter could felt bad for him. Could sense that the boy was hurting. But it wasn't enough to make him want to stay and comfort the boy.

He made to rush down the stairs keeping a wide birth between them. As he walked, Peter looked back and took in the boy's empty gaze at the wall. The stairs leveled off and the door was in front of him but he couldn't leave. Peter's stomach clenched and he had the feeling he shouldn't leave without saying something. He took in a deep breath, feeling his chest inflate as he turned around. The boy didn't even glance at him. That was good. Peter concentrated on the stairs just to the left of Flash so they didn't have to look each other in the eye.

"Just so you know, Flash." The boy's face morphed in a moment. All sharp lines and deep crevices stared back at him.

"What Parker? Going to gloat?"

Not rising to his taunt he went on as if Flash didn't speak. As if the hate filled glare wasn't aimed at him. "I thought that you deserved the spot. What Seymour did was wrong and you had the better project. It's unfair that he used his money to get what he wanted and, well, I'm sorry." Peter left his, not to be dramatic, enemy on the stairwell. The boy as still as a statue, mouth carved open, and left staring at the back of the boy he taunted.

Peter's hands shook as he pushed the door open; his breath came out in a large burst, which had been cradled in his chest for too long. Try as he might Flash scared him. Not in a fear for his safety but he was always conscious of what the boy would do next, what new insults and taunts would come hurtling his way. A small warmth ignited in his chest as he stepped into the sun. Even if he was scared he had still spoke up, had said something nice to Flash.

A voice echoing over the speakers broke him of his reverie and Pter was out from under the sun and back in the poorly lit room. This was it. He was in the precursor to the final round. The line Peter was waiting in would lead him to a larger room with a panel of judges. All he could picture was the restaurant critic from _Ratatouille_, his gaunt and serve mien judging Peter to be a complete failure. If he passed this round, no, when he passed this round he would get to meet Mr. Stark. Would then present his project to the man. Still, that possibility was making his palms sweat.

Peter had chosen the back of the line in an effort to be strategic. There had been a commotion at the front as people piled on top of each other trying to catch a peak inside the room and wanting to present first. To be seen first. Peter, on the other hand, had hung to the rear. He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he had made it this far and although his stomach was in a near constant state of churning he wanted to prolong this experience as much as possible. Not quite believing that he wasn't in a dream.

May's face had crumpled with tears when he had shown her his project, making the guilty noose around his neck loosen with the knowledge that he was working to fix his past mistakes. It had been about a month before the competition announcement that Uncle Ben had died. That Peter spawned the tragedy from his actions and was left there to bear witness. Now, nearly at the end of his freshman year he was finally beginning to breath through the haze. He liked to think of the burning he felt with each breath as a sort of penance.

Peter became obsessed with the competition, believing that by perfecting it, it would make up for everything. The work and time he spent on it distracted him, let him focus on that instead of his memories and he would be forever grateful to Mr. Stark for the chance to participate. Not that the man would ever know. Peter's project could help people in the future. The shiny texture of the solution mirrored the wetness streaming down May's face when he explained what it was for. She knew, even if he didn't explicitly state, why he had made it.

Now here he was. The once packed hall was sparsely filled, a few groups left waiting to the sides whispering and glancing at the doors. There were two people in between him and the coveted doorway. They were not enough to drown out the rusted hinge on the left door sending a creak into the air with every pass through it. Announcing one step closer. The hinge groaned and Seymour came strutting out toward him. Papers flew into the air before gracefully falling to the ground unlike Peter who imitated gravities affect on a sack of flour.

"Watch where you're going, Parker. What are you even doing here anyway? There's no way you could win this thing. What would a genius like Mr. Stark do with someone like you?"

Peter's lips thinned as his knees strained against the floor. "At least I didn't have to buy my way here," he mumbled to the carpet. He gathered the papers in his hand trying to ignore the harsh words from behind him.

Seymour must not have liked Peter's response because the next thing he knew a pain erupted from his back. The ground came rushing up as his head slammed into the ground. The room spun but Peter knew he had to get up as quick as possible. That was rule one: avoid being vulnerable. Bracing his palms on his thighs Peter glanced up from under his bangs not seeing anyone in close proximity anymore. Peter rubbed a hand down the side of his face wincing as he pressed against a sensitive spot. Trying to organize his papers he noticed a speck of red on the cover page and traced it back to a gash on his arm. It stung as his hoodie soaked up the excess blood.

He had just stacked his papers in the proper order when the doors opened and he caught a view of the room he had only imagined before. It was mostly empty. No stage for which he was grateful but the most important facets of the space was the four people sat behind a long, sleek table. It took him a second to realize that the unobstructed view was because no one was in front of him. It was his turn. Peter's spine cracked as he straightened it walking forward. He tried to ignore the shaking in his legs as he walked.

The one woman on the panel was easily recognizable. Pepper Potts commanded attention everywhere she went and this was no exception. Peter's eyes were drawn to her determined eyes as the rest of the people looked to her for cues when to continue on. He couldn't focus on the others present at the table and the shaking had migrated from his legs up his torso, into his arms and fingers. He cleared his throat as he set up his presentation; the eyes glinted as they followed his jerky movements. With his back turned he was able to think clearer than before. Steeling his resolve he swiveled his feet and the table came into his view again.

Heat spread from his cheeks down his neck and he struggled to take a breath, his vision tunneling on the crown of Ms. Potts' head. One of the older gentlemen, the one on the end with a pinstripe suit, spoke while looking through the papers in front of him.

"Okay, next we have?" Silence blanketed the room as Peter waited for someone to answer. The man took in Peter's glassy eyes and motioned for him to answer.

"Oh, ah. My name is Peter Parker, Sir," finally getting the words out. He wiped his hands across his jeans as they all wrote something down.

"Are you alright, Mr. Parker?" Ms. Potts spoke with concern. His eyebrows furrowed while his palms somehow became drenched again. Was it that obvious he was about five seconds away from having a total nervous lapse? But instead she signaled to Peter's pants. For a split second Peter worried he had peed himself but a hint of red caught his eye and his eyes darted to his arm. The folds in his shirt had moved around leaving the tear open in the air.

"Um, yes, Ma'am. Thank you. I must have fallen outside." He could practically feel the weight of their eyes moving from the stain to his face, making his chin throb. The other man, smaller in stature and balding asked if he needed a Band-Aid. An idea came to him so he declined.

"Alright, young man. Get started anytime you want. Why don't you give us a short introduction of yourself first?" Peter nodded but couldn't look toward the judges, so he concentrated on the tiles right above Ms. Potts. He could do this. Peter knew he could. His stomach just wasn't sure he would get through it all.

There had been a week time to sign up. It was a week where the papers on the corkboard outside of the office taunted him. They seeped the endless possibilities onto the floor while whispering to him, telling him that he didn't have enough courage to sign his name. He would purposefully go different routes to class in order to not pass the sheets; to pretend it wasn't happening. But under the cool stars on the fire escape he would think about it. Dream about walking on stage, shoulders back, voice loud, and confident while dazzling the judges. It was the Peter he wished he could be. Not the one that was scared off by some papers on a clipboard.

At the end of the week he was a mess. Far too many hours he spent in the bathroom. The mirror could predict his pale face and twitching left eye before Peter had even stepped in front of it. The last day of the sign up he had woken up late and thrown on clothes from earlier in the week, the wrinkles now permanent in the material. The floor moved under his feet as he meandered down the hallways. They squeaked against the tiles as he stopped after realizing what hallway he was in. The paper now full of names called to claim his. With care he moved closer to inspect it, like cornering a sacred animal he bowed his head in an imitation of reverence. A pen appeared in his hand and he shoved the shaking fingers flat against the wall on either side of the white. Peter took his time scanning down the list of names, knowing the school was long vacant by now.

It looked like everyone had signed up. Some of the smartest most outgoing people in the school were on the list. How could he, little Peter Parker compare to that. When he first came to midtown he was so nervous. Ben hadn't been there to help him through and although May tried to do her best, she didn't understand how people couldn't love her darling boy. When the teachers called on him unexpectedly they learned that they would get a stutter from their target and snickers from the rest of class in return. So they, thinking they were being benevolent, avoided him. The other kids were less pitying of the boy in second hand clothing. There was no learning curve for them and he was alone.

The unexpectedness of it all hurt the most. It was different than the dream he had in middle school. There Peter had thought that all his Peterness would disappear with age. That he would be able to look someone in the eyes without stammering like a fool and have that infernal blush come across his cheeks not be so severe. It had been like that since he could remember. He would come home from school lethargic wanting nothing more than the comfort of his room. He felt much better in his own space, but the magical transformation never occurred and Peter was still the same.

This, though, had called to him. Peter's name was signed and he was out the doors before the pen had fallen to the ground. His feet pounded on the walkway as he weaved through the people to get to the subway. The keys jingled in his hand as the door creaked open. He didn't call out to May as he ran to his room, not noticing the light was off under her door, and keeping the lights off Peter crawled under his covers.

He had done it. His heartbeat was reverberating throughout his chest but he had done it. Peter had signed up for what could have been the biggest experience he would ever have. The covers were warm by the time he was calm enough to think clearly. Peter asked himself what Ben would say, how he would get Peter out of his head, and look objectively at the situation. One of the last things he had said before he had… gone came to mind. It was right before school had started.

"It's okay to be shy Peter. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact it can be a good attribute. I just want you to remember that you can't let that, or anything, stop you from doing something you want to do. Courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, Peter. They are acting in spite of fear because you know it's right course of action." The words had stayed with him and he tried to remember them when he got in a tough situation. To not let any fear get in the way of what he wanted to do, but it was hard and Ben wasn't there anymore.

Peter remembered that night with clarity as he stood before the judges. He remembered how his stomach had ached from nerves but his mind was light with accomplishment. He signed the paper and worked the whole year to be able to stand here in front of these people.

"All right. I'm Peter. Um, my name is Peter Parker. I go to Midtown High School in Forest Hills and, um, I'm fourteen. I'm a freshman there. I, uh, like science a lot; especially Biology." He made the mistake of glancing up and saw their blank faces. Peter was sure that ever-single student that had stood where he was right now had said something along the same lines. What could he say to stand out?

"Um, well, in my spare time I'm a Ham." Someone coughed and he poked a finger into his collar to loosen it. "I mean that I'm an amateur radio operator. I like taking apart the radios and putting them back together." Their pens scratched the papers, but they didn't look any more interested than a few seconds ago. Knowing he wasn't going to win the personality test, for he was sure they were grading him on everything, he decided to jump into the presentation.

"So, what I have, actually, what I made is," He took a deep breath. "Spider silk. Well, a synthetic version. In nature it is known for being stronger than steel but thinner than human hair." The cards he was holding tumbled to the ground and he stared down in horror. Enough time passed that he felt awkward picking them up and Peter had practiced enough times he was fairly confident it was memorized so he started again.

"So, um, it's thinner than human hair but when force is applied, it is stronger than steel. Through a series of tests, starting with the silk of a spider I made this formula to basically help stitch wounds back together. Guess it's a good thing I fell cause now you all will get a live demonstration of this." He held up his arm.

"The solution I created is able to aid in the healing process. After applying it to the wound it will adhere to the edges, bonding with the tissue or whatever material there. Working it's way across the gash the liquid will weave together mimicking a web-like structure. The strands weave over and under each other lending strength to the other fibers. The tensile strength of the average spider silk is just above one GPa, which is measuring force per area. This is how much force is necessary to break the material. Not only does the strength compared to it's weight make the spider silk about five times stronger than steel but the shape of the structures make it even more durable."

Peter also concentrated on the flexibility of the fibers. While most scientists saw a weakness, Peter viewed it as a strength. The actual strands of spider silk could stretch and soften, bending under outside forces. They would bend but never break. Instead as the pull of the force became greater the fibers would stiffen causing less damage to the web or in this case wound. That was the property that had been the most difficult to perfect and the one that appealed to Peter the most.

When applied and secured to the edges it would travel with the person, breath with their movements. It would then harden and, once letting the body worked it's own magic, would dissolve into the skin. All this packed away in a can for easy application. Walking up to the presentation table he set his arm down. The fibers of the towel brushed against his skin as he pulled the small can of The Weaver.

"I only need the smallest amount for this but you will see it working right away." He tried to get the tub open with his mouth but it wouldn't budge. His cheeks burned. Remembering he had another hand he peeled it off of the towel and opened it with a pop. "Right well, all I have to do is pour a little bit directly onto the wound like so and… there you go."

There was a camera on the table getting a close up of his arm and it showed the way the fibers were growing, connecting. He twisted his wrist right and left to show the flexibility of the material and continued to explain how long it would last, admitting that he needed to figure out how to extend its longevity, and the side effects, so far he had found none. He finished up and looked at the silent room.

The flush came back full force as he saw them all leaning forward at various angles. One of them cleared their throat and the little man spoke again. "Very interesting, Mr. Parker. We have to go through the deliberations and then will let all the contestants know what we have decided. Thank you for your presentation."

It was over. Peter tried to muster a smile as he thanked them. His head bobbed before gathering his stuff, tripping over his feet in haste. Someone stood to help him but he couldn't turn back and just waved them off. Mumbling a thank you he left the room, making sure the doors were shut quietly behind him. The door leeched the warmth from his back. It could have gone worse, he supposed.

The line dwindled down until there was no one left in the lobby. Peter had been sitting in the shadows of a tall plant so he could observe the door without being seen. Three of the judges walked out, conferring about the different candidates and talking about when the next meeting was. No one saw Peter but he moved his legs closer to his chest in case. Another man held the door open for Ms. Potts, his back to Peter as they locked up. The couple spoke in quiet tones but Peter could hear them as if they were standing right next to him.

"Well, Pepper. I'm still not convinced this is a great idea. I felt ancient watching some of those babies."

"Oh, don't be dramatic. Plus, the term ancient lends the idea of wisdom. Senior, yes. Ancient, no." The man snorted but smartly didn't reply. "Someone gave you a chance when you were young, Mr. went to MIT at age fifteen. Come on, that one kid with the flying surf board was pretty cool."

"It was Flashy," the man said grudgingly. "But I think his washboard abs had something to do with your enjoyment of it." There was a soft smack and Peter imagined Ms. Potts hitting the man on his arm, smiling with the wind up.

"Did not."

"I thought that spider web kid had something there. There was just something about him. I can't put my finger on it." Their shadows were the only remainder of them in the room now.

"A little timid but I agree, Tony." Peter's blood ran cold. It couldn't be him. There had to have been another Tony, one of the other judges but three of them had left the room already. Had Peter missed him somehow? The sounds of their laughter faded around the room as Peter pressed his eyes to his knees, trying to control the wetness forming.

He was sure he had ruined it. The idea was good; there was no denying that. He knew it would be a helpful product but had the execution of the presentation made it seem weaker? Peter had tainted it but they had talked about him, had said there was something about his presentation. That sounded hopeful.

Rejection letters floated through his mind. The image of him walking into school, empty handed made his stomach clench as he curled into himself more. The hole in his chest opened up as he replayed every falter, every misspoken word and the judges' blank faces stared at him from the other side of the room.

Ben's words came back to him. Bravery was not the absence of fear but acting in spite of it. He had done that. Peter knew how afraid he had been, not sleeping the whole week before but he had gone up in front of them. He had a damn good idea and in the end he had done it. As he sat on the cold tile, his butt hurting from sitting in one position too long, the dust from the plant wafted into his nose and around him settling on the ground. He thought that maybe, this time, Ben would be proud.

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Thanks for reading!

Let me know what you think.


	2. The Sandwich Fiasco

Hi everyone! Hope you had a fabulous week. I am crazy busy with school right now and have responded to so many discussion boards (if you have online classes you know what I'm talking about) that I could do them in my sleep. Thank you for all the lovely feedback! :)

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The refresh button on his email was worn out by the end of the week. His eyes were heavy and constant churning in his stomach were starting to wear on him. May knew right away that something was bothering him. The Belgian waffles stacked with strawberries and whipped cream perfumed the kitchen the morning after the presentation. Peter took his time cutting the waffle into small cubes and loading a piece of strawberry into each bed before dousing the whole structure with maple syrup. He was so engrossed in his building that the concerned glances his aunt were sending his way went unnoticed. It wasn't until she reached over to still one of his hands that he realized how quiet the kitchen was. The fork clattered onto the table at the contact.

"Sweetheart, do you want talk about it?" Her eyes furrowed as she took in the dark circles painted under his eyes.

May had been upset when she was called in last minute, leaving Peter to go to the presentation alone. He had been lying on his bed when her voice pierced through the thin walls of their apartment. The feet padding back and forth in the other room were heavier than normal and her voice was tight. The day had marked in red on their calendar since Christmas for both of them, May knowing Peter would go all the way in the competition. A sick coworker and an adamant boss stood in the way. "May was their best" and "it was important that she came in today," were some of the phrases used.

Peter heard as she tossed her phone onto the couch before making her way to his room. A tentative knock sounded and her head popped through the doorframe. His manual bent with ease against he covers as he observed her disappointed expression and set the conductor he was working on aside. The new stack of books he found at a thrift store caught her eye and she lingered to look over the titles. It was an assortment of genres and her eyebrows rose when she spotted a romance toward the bottom.

The bed dipped low under their combined weight, encouraging the two to lean against each other. Their shoulders touched and Peter leaned into the touch, smelling her familiar sweet perfume.

"Peter…"

"It's okay, May. I heard." She played with the hem of his sheet not making eye contact. "I'll be fine."

The room was silent for a moment and Peter worried that he had said the wrong phrase. He knew how hard May worked for them, for him, and he didn't want to be selfish with her time. Her hand rose and she carded her fingers through his bangs before running it down his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth whispered onto his skin.

"I know you will be sweetheart, but I said I would go. I was looking forward to being your cheerleader." He swallowed down the growing knot in his throat not wanting May to see how much he needed her there; how much he wanted her to cheer him on.

"Me too but, uh, I could do it for you here. You know? It would give me some extra practice." Her smile lit up the room and he couldn't help but beam back, glad that he could cheer her up.

The coffee pot was refilled numerous times that night and their late night popcorn snack spilled all over the couch and floor. She had written and rewritten the words on notecards for him to use. He never had the heart to tell her that they had fallen to the ground at the beginning of the presentation and remained unused.

He hadn't actually spoken about the presentation besides a simple fine when she asked. Even that small admission was difficult to articulate, not fully believing the words himself. It was paramount to act like everything was normal, like he wasn't still suffering from embarrassment and dread. Peter wanted to see the same proud smile of hers light up the room when he told her the hopefully good news. He needed to be everything that she already thought he was and it was all riding on an email that hadn't appeared. So he kept quiet and forced a piece of waffle down his throat; confident that they tasted wonderful but the morsel was stale against his tongue. By the time he was done his stomach protruded uncomfortably as he watched the water run down the plate and concentrate in the sink.

"I don't want to talk about it but I need to do some homework…" He responded.

"Say no more. I'll finish up here. You go ahead." Her cheek was warm against his lips and she patted his head before he ducked out of the room.

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It wasn't until the following week that anything happened. His eyes were drooping in English, an atrocity that never happened before, but Austen just wasn't keeping his attention today. Mr. Darcy would have to wait to deliver his letter until he could re-read the chapter tonight. The class got quiet when a head poked into the room, whispering to the teacher. Mrs. Brzozowski glanced at him and with a disapproving voice brought his attention forward.

"Mr. Parker, Principal Morita would like to see you in his office."

He blank stare made her tap her fingers on the desk. "Now, Mr. Parker." Her voice though not unkind left no room for argument and he scrambled to get his stuff; careful to watch his feet so he didn't fall on the way to the door.

The anxiousness stifled the air and he had to stop and lean against the lockers. Had he done something wrong? He tried to recall anything that had happened in the last week but nothing came to mind. He had fallen asleep a couple times in Social Studies last week, maybe that was it?

The fire escape had become a sort of haven for him as his fears started to manifest themselves in his dreams. Beyond the time when May's breath evened out and the apartments next door settled into quiet, he would crawl out of the window into the night. It made him feel small staring up at the sky. Reminded him that he was one of billions of people on a planet the size of a grain of sand in the sandbox that was the universe. Logically, he knew that wasn't how it worked but the feeling seized him and sometimes when the sounds of the city washed over him, he could find reprieve. The rough brick supporting against his back and he would fall asleep for a couple of hours. But even those short intervals of rest weren't enough and Social Studies was boring.

Mr. Washington wished him a good morning as he stepped into the office.

"You can go inside, Peter." He said as he observed the boy shifting back and forth. He smiled in hopes of encouraging him forward.

Mr. Washington had been kind to him at the beginning of the year. When he had been lost in his grief it was hard for him to act in a socially acceptable way. Others felt uncomfortable around him, unsure of how to act, but Mr. Washington treated him like normal. He scolded Peter when he had skipped class and once when he got lost, helped him find his way to class. Sometimes he would stop before lunch and talk to the secretary.

Sighing, his knuckles rapped on the wood door before heading in. He kept his head down, worried about the look he would see in the principal's eyes.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Morita. I promise I won't fall asleep again." A throat cleared and he whipped his head up. The principal's hands were steepled under his chin. Across from Morita was Flash. The two stared at him as he stood frozen in the doorway.

"Mr. Parker, please come in. There's a seat next to Flash for you."

Peter swallowed before sitting in the seat, making sure he was as far from Flash as possible. If the principal noticed the tension in the room he gave no indication. He sat flipping through some papers on his desk while Peter continued to worry. His expression was serious before landing on the two boys and then he smiled.

"Well boys. You did it."

Peter's heart dropped. Here he was sitting in the principal's office, Flash with him, and the only option was that he was in trouble. Why else had he been summoned here in the middle of class? His breathing was uneven as he glanced over at Flash. Maybe he had blamed something on Peter? It wouldn't be the first time. The boy was smirking and seemed to know what the principal was talking about.

"Um…" He had to cough to clear his throat. "Mr. Morita? What is this about?"

"It is with great pride that I can be the one to say that each of you have been chosen for the final rounds of the S.T.A.R.K. competition. In fact, Midtown is the only high school where both candidates were selected. Congratulations are in order boys. Good work and I know you will do Midtown proud in the final round. Now, it will be held…"

Peter's heart felt like it simultaneously stopped and sped up at the same time. The beating crescendoed and deafened his ears from the incessant tone. He had done it. He made it to the final round. Instead of just glancing at the back of Mr. Stark's head from behind a plant, he would get to share with his idol. He couldn't wait to tell May.

One question bothered him. Why was Flash here? He had the burning urge to interrupt the principal and ask why it was Flash and not Seymour sitting next to him but he couldn't. Glancing at Flash covertly to see if there was any surprise on his face yielded nothing. The question died on his tongue when Morita addressed them again.

"If there is nothing else I want to say I'm proud of the work both of you put in and to break a tibia in the upcoming rounds. We'll be there, cheering you on."

He stood to let them leave and they shuffled out of the office. Mr. Washington was behind his desk and waved goodbye.

He could hear Flash's footsteps behind him and again the itch to ask came over him. Peter turned around to try and catch a glimpse of his classmate. The boy's cocky attitude was gone and was replaced by a sulky teen. His question lodged in his throat once more. The mirror had reflected that face enough times for him to know that any question would not be received well. He hadn't realized he had stopped walking until Flash halted right behind him.

"Dude. Parker. What's the matter with you? Don't just stop in the middle of the hallway."

There was no way he could go back to class. The energy from the news was coursing through him making his hands sweat. The nights of restless sleep surged in him but instead of making him feel like he could sleep for years, he felt he had just taken a shot of adrenaline. Like he could take the world upon his shoulders. He was going to present The Weaver. He was going to the final rounds with Flash. What was the world coming to?

"Do you want to go get a sandwich or something?" He blurted out without thinking. And now he had just asked Flash to get lunch with him. He must really have lost it.

Flash, for his part, looked surprised. His brows furrowed, lips pressed in a straight line, as he searched Peter's gaze. Finding no ulterior motive he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure." Peter did a double take to make sure it was the same Flash he had known all year before leading the way out of school. His fingers rang through the hair at the back of his neck as they walked toward the exit.

They awkwardly bumped shoulders through the doorway, which had Peter muttering an apology and Flash telling him to shut up. His tone lacked its normal harsh quality while delivering insults and Peter ignored it but regretted blurting out the invitation. Flash followed him on the sidewalks and through the throngs of people going about their day.

They turned into one of Peter's favorite delis; though nothing was better than Delmar's. Peter had been raised to always be polite and because he invited, attempted to pay for Flash's sandwich only to have his hand slapped away. He muttered under his breath that he could pay for it himself and that he wasn't poor. Peter's face had heated and cursed himself for asking Flash of all people to do this.

Not wanting to be stuck sitting at a table with Flash they ate and walked. The awkwardness between them was muted by the distraction of food but once they were done Peter was at a loss as to what to do and the awkward feeling in his stomach clenched around the ingested sandwich.

The whole situation was bizarre. How was he supposed to try and talk with Flash, someone who didn't like him, if at times he had a hard time opening up to someone who did? Any attempts at conversation had been rejected by Flash and he remained silent for the rest of the time alarmingly conscious of the other boy's actions. After all this was one of his bullies at school. He had to pinch himself to make sure this whole sandwich fiasco he had created was real. The boy was staring straight ahead and seemed to not feel the turn of Peter's thoughts. They turned around the corner and the school came into view.

"So, uh, this was..."

"Don't you dare say nice, Parker."

The year worth of stomping down on his emotions, of being to afraid to say anything, and letting others walk over him came to a head. His hands shook as he stuffed them into his pockets. Why did Flash hate him so much? Peter rounded on the boy who took a step back.

"You know what, Flash. I don't know what I ever did to you and I'm sorry but I'm sick and tired of you being so mean. What did I ever do to you? And doesn't it ever get tiring being negative all the time? I've been trying to be nice all day although I don't know why because you've been terrible all year and this has just been a pain. I get we are not friends. You have made that abundantly clear, so, sorry about today."

His steps were heavy against the pavement and he tried to funnel his rage out with every step as he left the boy speechless in the middle of the sidewalk. Peter couldn't believe he had just spoken to Flash like that. It felt good, releasing all that tension. Sure, there had been an apology in there somewhere but he felt lighter for having spoken. He only hoped that his little speech wouldn't cause trouble for him later.

He didn't realize that Flash had caught up to him until he felt fingers close around his arm. Instinctively he tensed up. Finger by finger the grip removed itself and Flash stepped around to face Peter who was busy staring at the ground.

"Don't be such a wimp, Parker." He said and Peter sighed, turning to walk away again. "Wait, look man. Today was fine, so thanks. And I, uh, wouldn't say no to doing it again."

That was unexpected. Peter briefly glanced at Flash before looking down. There was a small gleam of hopefulness in his eyes that Peter had glimpsed. Was Flash trying to be nice? There had been no apology, for anything, but he had said he would do it again. For Flash that was down right saintly but Peter was still weary. He thought he would be stupid if he weren't after the year he had undergone.

"Uh, maybe, Flash. I've got to go actually but I'll see you at the finals." He looked up to see how the boy would take his response and couldn't quiet read what was there but they nodded at each other and turned to go opposite ways. Flash toward the circle drive where a valet was waiting to come get him and Peter hurried to the subway, walking down the steps and into the underground tunnel. He couldn't believe the day he just had and couldn't wait to tell May what had happened.

His freshman year had dragged by at a snails pace. Not only had he lost Ben but he was at a new school and everyone steered clear of him besides Flash and his buddies, including Seymour. They had taken it on themselves to lay down the welcome mat for Peter but this time they pulled it out from under his feet.

What was the most bothersome to him was that there was no reason for it. They had just taken a dislike to him and Peter had nothing else but to assume it was his looks or personality in some way that made them hate him. He had taken it to heart and felt like if he could just be less of himself, they would like him. The worst of it all was that he cemented these feelings in. Kept them bricked up so that May wouldn't worry about him.

He ducked under a broken fence and winded through an alley to get to the stairs to his apartment, which sagged under his light footing as he made his way to the door. The key swept out from under the fraying matt with ease. He had to pull the door toward him before pushing it hard with his shoulder to get it to open.

May wasn't home yet and he walked around the empty apartment not taking any notice of the facedown picture frames or faded paint. After going through the day a couple more times he made it to his bedroom. The bed groaned as he threw himself on the mattress, it bounced once before going concave. He plucked Austen from his backpack and was sucked into a whirlwind of romance and miscommunication.

Peter was knocked out of his thoughts by the sound of the door being slammed open and keys clattering onto the island counter.

"I'm home, Peter." May yelled from the entrance and he bolted from the room. His nerves making his actions jerky and he hit his toe on the door jam. Jumping up and down he made it to where May was standing and took her purse. He helped he out of her light jacket before hugging her tightly.

May gave the best hugs. Ask anyone and they would tell you that her hugs could heal the world. He thought if he could inherit anything from her, even though they weren't blood related, it would be that. She laughed and patted him on the back.

"Hi sweetie. Not that I'm complaining but what was that for?" She asked while stroking his cheek.

Peter ducked his head. The words he wanted to say were stuck in his mouth. A whole year of work had led up to this and he didn't want to disappoint her. Didn't want to disappoint Ben. She could see the confusion in his eyes and led them over to the couch pushed into the corner of the living room. The workout mats that May had used were strewn about in the middle of the room. It creaked under their weight and they ended up lying on it more than sitting.

"Peter, sweetheart. What is it?"

"I, uh, skipped half of school. I'm sorry." She looked surprise but May could see there was something else.

"Okay, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

He fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking into her eyes. There was nothing but concern and love there. It was just May, he thought. He had nothing to be scared of. Nothing. And yet this seemed almost as terrifying as presenting in front of the judges the other day. With a deep breath he tried to focus, to sound strong but his words came out as nothing more than a mumble.

"I got into the final round." He sat as it sunk in. She was too still, too quiet.

He was shocked to find wells of water gathering in her eyes. She blinked at him and the wells overflowed and embraced her cheeks and neck. A shaky smile stole over her face.

"I, uh, May?" Instead of replying she threw her arms around him and Peter was reminded of all those times as a child she had held him. When he had been hurt or just needed some extra love May was always there for him. Even now, though he was older, she knew when something was wrong and would unobtrusively gift him with her hugs. She whispered all sorts of congratulations and told him how proud she was. Peter let her hold him. He reveled in it and they sat together for a while. Slowly, she sat back and he could feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder as she looked at him.

"Peter, I am so proud of you. No matter what happens I just know that Ben will be looking down and be proud of you as well. I love you, Sweetheart."

His nerves, for the time being, were covered by a blanket of love that May had woven. Dinner was quiet and he returned to his room to finish up some homework and try to fall asleep.

* * *

He could feel his heart pounding like staccato notes in his chest as he woke up. His muscles were tense and he could feel the sheets sticking to his limbs. The dream slipped away before Peter could remember, the sickly haze covering him the only indicator he had dreamed anything.

It felt like a great weight was pressing down his chest making it impossible to expand his lungs. The walls felt tighter and he reached a hand out to press against the wall so they wouldn't shrink anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut hoping that they would be back to normal but at the count of ten they enclosed in on him further. Peter's breaths were ragged and he abandoned his attempt to stop the shrinking. With shaky hands he tumbled out of bed and grasped the window, panicking when it wouldn't budge. It snapped open with one last push and he fell out the window. His lungs expanded and stung with the cool air.

The railing was cold beneath his hands with the spring climate and he settled on the stairs. His legs were free to move through the air as he sat leaning his head through the slots.

The sounds of the city echoed around him as his thoughts reeled. His phone screen shone bright on his face as he once again refreshed his email. On seeing a notification his breath caught. If it had been real, the envelope would have been torn open immediately. He could hardly believe he was seeing the correct return address. All the details sat innocently on the screen in front of him and his eyes viciously ravaged them for their content. If it hadn't been official before it was now. He was participating in the final round and then it would be decided.

He, Peter Parker, was going to Stark Towers.

* * *

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	3. Meeting Aunt May

Hello friends! Hope you are doing well! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, favorited, etc. this little story.

* * *

Glass windows plunged up into the clouds looking like they continued on into the heavens. The smooth intricate designs of metal and glass weaved together, embracing along the planes of Stark Tower. The steps leading up to the main doors stood erect before him. Peter gripped his backpack straps, scrunching the fabric in his fingers causing his knuckles to whiten. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he turned to smile at May. His heart swelled at having her beside him.

He watched as the throngs of people entered and exited the building as if it were nothing special and hoped that someday he would be like that. He hoped that he would be able to walk in confidently, wishing a good day to the front desk person. That the awe of the great architecture would become an after thought, something he would notice only when the sun hit the glass in the right way and cause him to look up. That would be something.

She brought her arm up and around his shoulder, knocking their heads together lightly. May had done the impossible and persuaded her boss into letting her take the day off. The whole day. It was ages since she had the day off and Peter was over the moon she was spending it with him. That after her disappointment in not being at the second round, she was going to see him in the finals.

She'd practiced her speech in front of Peter before she got the nerve to give it to her boss. Like when she helped him with her speech, Peter offered the same support and after some power poses and funny imitations of her boss she perfected it. The next day she came home with a smile on her face and a day free of work. In celebration they went out to their favorite Thai restaurant and splurged a little ordering dessert for them to split. Not even the empty spot next to May could deter their mood that evening

Everything would change after today. Being at the precipice of the final rounds brought back memories from his childhood. The memories of all the laughter and love and Ben's famous brownies offset the pang that the empty seat still brought. He was thankful that he had May and thought back to the time first time he met her.

Peter woke with a start. A beeping raced against the staccato beat of his heart as he blindly looked around the room. White walls and monitors with foreign symbols across them were the first things he noticed lining the room. He brought his hand up to try and wipe the sleep from his eyes but something stopped him along the way. A whimper escaped him as a sharp pain emanated from his arm and when he investigated found a wire that joined his body to some type of bag leaking liquid.

His eyes burned when he realized he was in some type of hospital, recognizing it from when he visited his Papa. Peter didn't like hospitals. The smell of sickness hung in the air and no amount of cleaner would ever wash it away. It was a place where people went and didn't come back. At least that was what happened to his Papa. And now finding himself in one set his mind uneasy. Soon enough nurses and doctors bustled around him making sure the bandages he hadn't noticed earlier encasing his leg were clean. They poked and prodded his body and with a sharp word from one of them to stay still; Peter forwent asking any questions.

The confusion was what he remembered the most upon waking. The frustration at not knowing what happened plagued his small body. All his memories seemed jumbled up and fragmented and all he wanted was his mom. The sounds of the hospital filtered into his dark room that night and when the people stopped impeding into the space he claimed as his, he cried into the sheets.

There were flashes of images floating around in his brain just far enough away that his small arms couldn't reach out and grasp them. He thought there had been some type of accident but something in his throat would catch every time he tried to ask. They said he had to wait for the doctor but the doctor said he needed to wait for someone else and no one would let him see his parents.

Peter flipped through a picture book one of the nurses brought him when a man knocked on the door. His large stomach protruded into the room before the rest of him entered and the blonde hair that sat atop his head was shockingly white. He threw a small package onto the bed in front of Peter, who slowly reached forward and looked into the clear plastic covering the front of it. The man gave him a cookie. Peter set it back down on the bed. His stomach was acting strange, rebelling against the thought of food, and the image of eating something sweet made it clench in unrest.

He grabbed a chair folded up near the door and dropped it down by Peter's bed. Much to close to the bed. The man shuffled around and sat down, pulling out a stack of papers hidden in his coat. The flipping of those papers and the clicks of a pen were the only sounds in the room until he spoke.

"Now, Mr. Parker. Can I call you Peter?" Peter stared at him clutching the thin blanket to his chest. His parents taught him to never talk to strangers but the large body blocked his way to the door so Peter sat quiet. The man looked at him before clearing his throat and shifting in the chair.

"Okay, Peter. You are going to be placed with the Parkers. Mr. Parker was your father's brother and his wife, May, are going to be taking you in…" Peter froze at his words. The dark cloud of what they meant lurked in the back of his mind and its mist condensed and seeped into the cracks in his mind tainting any hope he had.

"Sir?"

"Don't interrupt me, young man. Didn't anyone teach you manners?" His mouth snapped shut as a sharp itch entered the back of his throat and tiny pricks stabbed at his eyes. His arm jerked forward to wipe across his face before the man could see the consequence of his words. Peter didn't want the man to think he was a baby. He was a big boy and wasn't supposed to cry anymore but the man hadn't looked up from his paperwork the whole time. Peter twisted the sheets between his small hands noticing how stiff they were. The man continued to talk but Peter couldn't listen. He knew something happened. Before it was a mere feeling Peter had, not used to being separated from his parents for so long, but this confirmed it. He swallowed back the rest of his tears saving them for later. Saving them for when he was alone.

The man stood to leave and finally glanced at Peter. Unlike the nurses he didn't try to hide his pity but Peter could see a hint of disgust there as he viewed the dried tear tracks on Peter's face. The man made him uncomfortable and Peter tried not to flinch back when the man bent over to ruffle his hair.

"Don't worry little man. You'll be fine." Peter's cheeks blushed. What did he know? The blush turned hot as he stared at the man standing beside the bed. He wouldn't even answer his questions and was just carting him off to the next person supposedly going to look after him. Peter burned holes into the sheets. The man turned to leave unperturbed by the strange boy's silence but spied the cookie sitting on the bed.

"Are you going to eat that?" Silence descended on the room. Peter gazed at the man with all the hatred he could muster and wished him to disappear. The man didn't seem to notice and shrugged as he snatched it away, laughing all the while as if they shared a joke. "I shouldn't eat it really. Heightening the blood sugar and all that. Anyway, remember to be dressed for today. Good luck."

That's how Peter's bed sheets found themselves marred with moist patches and snot. Peter burrowed himself under the covers but the condensation was making it difficult to breath. He rubbed his head methodically against the sheets not caring he was getting the wet mixture all over his hair. The back and forth rhythm on his scalp was keeping him grounded. It was an attempt at some kind of comfort, even if he was the only one who could give it.

There was a loud knock on the door that had him falling silent, though his labored breaths still rung loud through the room. His breath out was shaky as he tried to remain as quiet as he could so the person at the door wouldn't know he was in there. But they weren't bothered by the lack of response and he heard footsteps walk into his room, straight for the bed. Peter squeezed his eyes shut wishing for the second time that day that the person invading his space would disappear. He hoped it wasn't the man from earlier again.

"Peter?" A soft voice broke through his prayer. The tone was light but hesitant. "Sweetheart? My name is May Parker. I'm your aunt. Do you mind if I sit down here and we talk?"

He sniffled and peaked his eyes out from under the covers. The only clue in his line of sight was a pair of jeans. The covers came back over his head as he tucked it to his chest before nodding not caring if she saw. The bed dipped down and he tensed for a moment. It was quiet while his ragged breaths returned to normal. The woman sat there in the silence and waited for Peter to be ready. She waited for him. Everyone else in the past couple days barged in and moved about in their own time. The nurses, doctors, and man from earlier did that with no regard for Peter and talked around him, not to him. Their goal was on their tasks and getting them done before bustling on with their day. Not caring for the boy they left alone in the cold room.

The lack of fresh air caused Peter to pop his head out from his shelter. Sunlight streamed onto his face and he curled tighter into himself in an effort to offer his body protection. From there he could see the woman's shoulder, which was petite, and the tips of her long brown hair. It fell flat across her back curling slightly at the ends to cover the pattern on her yellow shirt. If she heard him move she didn't respond in any way and just kept looking ahead.

There was something about her presence that set Peter's heartbeat at ease. Maybe it was the soothing quality of her voice or the fact that she was doing this at Peter's will. Whatever it was Peter, for the first time since waking at the hospital, felt curious. The gentle scent of lavender hit his nose now that he wasn't breathing in the stale air under the covers.

"What, what's your name Miss?" He asked hesitantly, aware that she had already said. A blush graced the back of his neck at his lack of attention to her words but he wanted to make a good impression on her.

Her eyes met his and instead of the pity that had spread to everyone else's face, her eyes gleamed. The smile she shared lit up the room sending the shadows he knew were lurking at bay. Her brown eyes weren't just plain brown. They held so many different tones of chocolate and honey that Peter was instantly awed by their multitude. The colors swirled around and conveyed so much emotion he couldn't read them all. He noticed that inside the frame of her beautiful smile her teeth were overlaid against each other, all vying for front row to see the world. Still, it was a lovely smile that set Peter more at ease.

"My name is May Parker. Your father's brother is my husband. You can call me May, Aunt May, or even hey you works." She said laughing and holding her hand out across her body and let it hover there in front of him until he decided how to respond. He slid his arm out and warm fingers gripped the offered hand. He couldn't help but marvel at the size difference between them. How much gentle strength she held in her fingers and how she only used it to set him at ease.

"Hi, May. I'm Peter. Peter Parker."

"Its nice to meet you Peter. News on the street is your going to get the best patient award." His brows quirked at her statement. He didn't think that he'd been a particularly good patient at all. The people tried to avoid meeting his eyes and always seemed to be in a hurry to leave the room. She cleared her throat and he looked up at her.

"I think someone was supposed to come earlier to explain everything to you?" The question in her voice was obvious and Peter stared down at the blanket. Should he tell her about the man that visited? He didn't want her to think he was rude to him but something about her quiet way disarmed him and he found himself nodding a little to her question.

"Did you have any questions? Anything I can answer I will."

He could bring up the man, could confide what made him uneasy. The way he had been more worried about the paperwork than Peter but something unplanned came out of his mouth instead.

"Where is, um, do you know where my-my parents are?" His voice quivered toward the end. He continued to stare down, fiddling with the sheets so he didn't see May's face drain of color or the way her hands clenched in her lap.

"Sweetheart? Peter?" She asked when he remained silent. "Did no one tell you?" He remained still afraid to see, to hear, whatever was coming. Already knowing what it might be. His forehead felt clammy against his hair and he moved so he was sitting up. That way he was less vulnerable and had a better vantage point of the woman at the edge of his bed. She looked toward him and searched his face.

"Sweetheart. There was an accident. You were in the backseat and, well, your parent's didn't make it. I am so sorry, Peter." The tidal wave that had been churning during his stay finally hit the shore of his mind and sent him adrift. The wave was pressing hard on his chest, compressing his lungs smaller and smaller. The tears he shed during the past days seemed to have dried up his reservoirs because when he went to hide his face, his fingers met dry surface.

The pillow supported his head and he pulled the covers up to his chin as he nestled into the bed. The blinking monitors filled the void of his eyes and distracted him from the pressure mounting in his chest. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he flinched under the weight. It squeezed once before moving to his back. The weight reminded him of all the times when he wasn't feeling good. His dad would come into his room at night and tell him wild stories all while rubbing his back. His dad would always make sure Peter was sleeping before leaving the room but sometimes Peter would pretend so he would be awake when his dad kissed his forehead goodnight. Peter missed his daddy.

This hand was smaller, softer than his dad's. His breath hitched and the hand continued its motion. He was glad she didn't say anything. That she made no attempt to say this was all apart of a grand plan or that the hurt would lessen after a time. That's what people said when his Papa went away and he learned to loathe those kind words.

May stayed next to him. Her warmth radiated through him and the whole situation was so right, yet so wrong. It should have been his mom sitting next to him, telling him it was going to be okay. Her light tickles and strong hugs always made him feel better and he could almost smell the aroma of the homemade Thunder cake they would make together when it rained out. Peter missed his mom.

The tears were fat as they rolled down his cheeks and into the deep set crevasses of his scrunched up face before absorbing into the bedding. They stayed like that until Peter was worn out and lay languid on the bed. The hand was motionless but sat against his back in stillness. His eyes closed and he fell into a restless sleep, thankful that someone was beside him.

* * *

When he awoke the room was empty. He tore the bedding away and leaped from the bed, not stopping though his sore muscles and scraps tinged from the unmediated movement. The leg was wrapped in a hard cast but his foot protested the pressure in its confines. His hands trembled as he checked the whole room finding even the closet empty. Had the woman been a dream?

Small hands wrapped around the silver pole that held the bags dripping liquids into him. After navigating through the room, getting caught on some ridges in the floor, and peaking his head out of the door he rushed out. His head whipped down both directions in the hallway and the only thing that met his eye was people in scrubs. On a whim he headed left and scurried away from the room. The pacing was off because of the cast but he hobbled along the corridor. One of the doctors looked at him funny but he paid her no mind. All his focus was on finding the woman who comforted him earlier. On making sure she was real.

He turned the corner and collapsed against the pole when his eyes fixated on a bright speck of yellow. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he struggled to maintain a grip on the metal, which was digging into his shoulder. The muscles in his legs weren't used to so much movement and he felt like he was walking in honey. But he willed himself to keep going. The woman's frame was blurry from so far away and he sped up hoping his vision would clear. Her back was turned to him until the person motioned to her and her neck craned to see what was behind her.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the little boy coming down the hall. He was clad only in a too big hospital gown, which was falling down his shoulder leaving it open to the cool air. His hand was barely holding onto the IV pole dragging behind him. A small leg peaked out from beneath the gown and his other was armored in a cast that looked huge compared to his petite body. He was limping slightly and May was stunned at the determination engraved in his face. Peter stopped to catch his breath and all but collapsed to the floor, the IV pole holding him up. Peter could see the yellow silhouette moving toward him. Her face went blurry again but even though she was closer now he still couldn't see.

"I- I thought… You were gone." He whispered hoping she would hear. She dropped to her knees in front of him so they were the same height. Her hands came up to brush away the tears that blocked his vision and he could see the wetness in her eyes.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. The doctors needed to talk to me." She raised her hands again in a slow motion but before she could move them any farther Peter let go of his tower and rammed his body into hers. His arms wrapped around her neck and he inhaled the lavender scent. May's hug was warm and secure. And he felt the grief and confusion that had swept him away leave for the first time in days.

That was the first time he met May and was one of only a lifetime of loving hugs she would give to him. Peter couldn't help but smile at her and thank whomever it was up there that he had found May. Or maybe it was that she had found him. He leaned into her soft body and felt her lips brush against his hair.

"You're going to do amazing sweetheart and I'll be there the whole time."

"Thanks, May. I love you." He clasped their hands together, the sizing between them much different than it was at the hospital that day and he was still awed by how much strength she wielded in her now smaller than his hands. They climbed the steps marveling at the beautiful design and entered the building that housed his future.

* * *

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	4. They aren't There Yet

Hi Friends! Hope all is going well with you! Here's the next segment. Thank you, Enjoy!

* * *

Peter closed his eyes for a moment to center his mind before heading to the front desk. He traced his eyes across the grooves in the tile as he waited for the clacks of the keys to be silent. The air was cool and he pulled his sleeves down to cover his clammy palms. The man sitting in front of the computer looked up. Peter's face heated when he apologized and Peter waved him off.

"I didn't see you there. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm, uh, Peter. Peter Parker and I have an appointment." The man started typing again and nodded his head. Peter's fingers trembled as he reached out and took the ID badge. The secretary must have seen May walking around the entrance, admiring the architecture, because he gave Peter another guest badge. He clipped the badge onto his shirt making sure it laid flat. His name was printed in bold letters across the middle of the card. The muscles in his stomach clenched. It should have been someone else's name there. It shouldn't be him who was here today.

Peter thanked the secretary and hurried over to May. They walked in to the main part of the lobby and craned their necks to take in the glass ceiling. The panes angled up and narrowed into a point at the center. The rays of light filtered through the glass onto various parts of the room, illuminating corners and wall space that wouldn't normally see the light of day. It was, like the rest of the building, ethereal.

The lobby was peaceful today. He had imagined pushing his way through crowds of people ready to watch. All of them would be milling about aimlessly ready to stare as he inevitably made a fool of himself in front of Tony Stark. That was how his daydreams started the past week before they morphed into something more sinister, something he would rather not think about now.

It was with a sigh of relief that the space was clear. The instructions were to wait in the lobby and May found a seat on a comfy looking couch. He stood in front of her, shifting his feet back and forth. What he wanted to do was pace the entire length of the lobby. To stretch his legs and make himself forget for a second why he was there, but he didn't want to take up anymore space than he already was so he stood in front of May. She patted the seat next to her but he shook his head.

He was facing toward the front watching the lights ripple like ocean waves against the floor. Maybe they should just leave now. He could send an email later saying he was sick and to give the opportunity to someone worthy. His fingers clenched against the hem of his shirt and he thought of Ben. The title of Uncle was purely in name only. Ben was his dad in every sense of the word and Peter knew how much he would have loved seeing Peter do this. He was always encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone to prove he could do anything. The tile glued his feet where they were and Peter's lips sealed his doubt away.

His heart was beating so loud that if it escaped his chest it would bounce off the glass and echo around the room, cluing anyone listening how nervous he was. The secretary glanced curiously at him and Peter gave him a crooked smile before turning back around to face the doors.

"Peter Parker. Fourteen years old, lives in Forrest hills, New York, and goes to Midtown High School."

The squeak of his dress shoes scuffing on the tile made him flinch into himself. The muscles in his back rippled and tensed at the voice. That voice was familiar to him. It was the voice he heard numberless times in interviews and YouTube videos through the years. He spun around to see the subject of those videos standing before them.

The man was wearing jeans and a t-shirt causing Peter to look down at his own button down and dress pants with derision, hating that he talked himself into dressing up. The shirt was one of Ben's and was hanging off of his shoulders but the pants were the opposite and were short around the ankles from before his growth spurt. His fingers dove into his tie to try and loosen it around his neck.

Mr. Stark held out his hand as he stood near the couch. With realization Peter scrambled back over to where the two adults stood. Once in front of the man he briefly glanced up, avoiding his eyes, to observe his face. The famous goatee had sharp lines and was quirked in a hint of a smile. Peter stared at the face plastered onto the t-shirt as he raised his hand. It was some type of band shit but Peter wasn't sure which one. The printed image was faded and an obvious love for the shirt was worn into the material. Mr. Stark's hand was warm and strong around his own petite digits. He flickered his eyes up to the man's face before promptly bringing it down again. Then Mr. Stark turned toward May and gave her a wide smile.

"You must be his lovely Aunt. I'm Tony Stark but please, call me Tony." A light pink painted her cheeks but she kept an unimpressed expression until Mr. Stark turned away from her to face Peter once again at which time she wagged her eyebrows at Peter.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir." The laugh enlarged to fill the atrium.

"Don't call me Sir, I work for a living. Tony is fine." Peter wouldn't look at the man's face so he wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. To be safe he attempted to smile and nodded. He knew that he was being impolite but his stomach clenched at the thought of seeing disappointment now that he was face to face with the man. "Well, it's good to finally meet you as well. Are you excited for today?"

He nodded again and stared at his shoes. Although the man's shoes looked fancy on inspection, he noticed the sides of the rubber soles were trod down and there were scuff marks adorning the top of the toes. You could tell a lot about a person by their shoes. Peter got in the habit of looking at them when he felt uncomfortable and learned what the marks meant. They were nice shoes, a good brand, and although there were scuffs they were cleaned recently. Like the t-shirt it was respected and cared for.

Peter heard a sigh and his stomach clenched at the thought of making the man feel bad. He forced himself to look up and the man caught his eye before smiling. It didn't leave Peter feeling all warm inside but it was enough for the man to smile back. Mr. Stark clapped his hands and welcomed them to the building before leading them to the elevators.

The space was silent besides the soft tune of a flute playing in the background and for the first time Peter got an up close look at the man he knew since childhood. It was a strange feeling, to know someone so well and yet know nothing about _them_. Mr. Stark's hands tapped along with the music and it gave Peter a moment to really observe him. Staring at the man now Peter felt like he was getting a chance to peer behind the tinted glass. There was nothing blatantly different between the man standing before him and the man who was frequently the topic of the news.

But Peter could see past the exterior and notice the small discrepancies. It was like second nature to him. Like he could infer things from his shoes, Peter knew that Mr. Stark used this other persona to hide behind. Peter knew that because he often hid away from the world himself. The man's physicality was more subdued here. Instead of opening his arms wide and making himself more grandiose, he stood with his shoulders back and feet apart. Confident but conserved.

May asked Mr. Stark a question about the building and they began talking. His voice, which commanded attention anywhere it was heard, still had that same draw but he didn't use it to dominate now. He steered the conversation and listened with rapt attention while May told him about herself. Peter blushed and ducked his head when she brought up how proud she was of Peter for signing up for the competition.

There was some other quality, too. It was something too abstract, too visceral for Peter to understand, yet.

"Well, Peter and May. I thought we would start with a tour for the both of you. I thought getting to know the place would be a good first step for today." They both agreed and he took them to the first of many labs.

Peter was star struck. The equipment and facilities were all he ever dreamt of and more, but a thought rung through his head during the whole tour. Why? There was no real reason to go on the tour before giving his presentation.

His curiosity was brimming over and as they went to another room with a model arc reactor he had to know how it worked.

"So, by using the arc reactor it funnels the energy of the electrons outward from inside the inner core which means it creates a substantial energy current. The possibilities for clean energy are right at your fingertips then."

"Exactly, Kid. You've been doing some read on this haven't you?" May smiled looking between them. Peter blushed when he realized how candid he'd been.

"I, well, I like reading."

"Jim Rohn once said reading is essential for those who seek to rise above the ordinary."

"Oh, um, it's just something I enjoy. I'm not sure I fit into that category." His voice was soft and he pulled his sleeves back down. At the silence he looked up to find both adults staring at him. He went to open his mouth but shut it again.

"Don't count yourself out just yet, kid." He said before stepping in front of a set of frosted doors leaving Peter a step behind. May put her hand on his shoulder squeezing his tense muscles and followed Mr. Stark forward.

He trailed behind them wondering which room they were going in next. There on the table was his presentation. The vial of Weaver gleamed against the silver next to the stack of papers he brought.

Everything sped forward. There were voices playing in the background and his vision narrowed to a tunnel. Peter found himself standing before the two adults who were now sitting. The recited words that came out of his mouth were his own but it felt like they were being filtered through someone else. That he wasn't the one actually saying them. He stared at the space above his audience and on autopilot continued on. His hands trembled and the blood rushing to his head made it difficult to concentrate.

Then it was over. He heard clapping behind a veil of white noise and his eyes landed on May. She smiled and he hoped he made her proud. His heart was thrumming in his chest and he felt like he had been on a rollercoaster ride.

The time they took on the tour helped to calm the energy pouring off of him. The confusion melted away the further they went into the labyrinth of rooms. The man wasn't anything like Peter had thought he would be. He was patient when Peter built up the courage to ask questions. He opened the door for himself and his aunt, letting them in a room before him, and he even introduced them to Friday. The kind voice called him Mr. Parker at first but Peter quickly had he call him by his first name. Mr. Parker was what he was used to people calling Ben. What people called Ben. She had apologized and wished him good luck, which made him blush bright.

Now standing there after his audition, the yearning compressed inside his chest and threatened to explode out. He needed to be chosen. There was no way he could go back to how he was before, not after being here today.

"May, you've got quite a son there." Mr. Stark rose from his seat.

"Yes, I do. Don't I?" She said with a smile.

"Why don't you go relax in the waiting room while I go over some things with Peter. There's coffee in there. Please help yourself." May looked uncertainly at Peter but concealing his panic he forced himself to nod.

Peter's eyes followed her out of the room and then glanced at the man who was observing him. He shifted back and forth under the scrutiny.

"I just wanted… That is, thank you Mr. Stark for allowing me the opportunity…" Peter's mouth shut with an audible snap when the man's hands rose up.

"There is no need to thank me. I have to say that I saw your presentation at the hall and it was good. I'm not just saying that. The idea is brilliant." Peter's blush magnified as he kept talking.

"So, I'll just have to have the others on the board sign off and then we can get going. How does that sound?"

The world stopped spinning for a moment. Peter stared at the man who was leaning his hip against a table and stared right back at him. The man's expression was soft and Peter dropped his eyes to the floor, trying to wrap his head around the words.

"What?" His voice came out as no more than a whisper and Mr. Stark, who got up and was walking to the door May left out of turned around. He spied Peter still in the same spot as before. "Do you mean that?"

He came back and gently set his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"You got it, kid. You and select individuals from the list of other candidates have been chosen. Today was more of a formality if nothing else but I couldn't resist the chance to show off all the tech to someone who would appreciate it."

"I…" It was like their handshake earlier but somehow more. Peter stood there for a second, overwhelmed with the emotion he felt. He was floating. A year worth of work had finalized in this moment. A year worth of late nights, scratched out and crumbled papers, and relentless determination to finally achieve his goal. Peter fought the pricks in his eyes but they came heedless. His back dug into the metal as he fell into the table for support.

"Are you okay? Peter?" The voice rang out like the beams of light on a light house and Peter swam toward it. He swam through his thoughts toward the safety the voice would bring. He was sure of it.

It was the first time since Ben that an adult besides May had touched him in a caring manner. The warmth seeped through the pores in his shirt and into his very veins, energizing and fusing as it traveled. Peter found himself leaning forward, unconsciously trying to get closer to the man. All he wanted to do was burry wrap his arms around the man in thanks and soak up the warmth forever but he reeled back as if something struck him.

Mr. Stark's eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pulled thin. He was afraid he had done something wrong, was being too casual. What was he thinking? The man's limbs moved slow, giving Peter enough time to stop him if he wanted. Little did he know that some force inside himself immobilized Peter. Mr. Stark moved his arm forward and Peter held his breath. At the last second Mr. Stark brought his arm back and ran his fingers through his hair. His chest deflated and Peter leaned further away not caring that his back ached.

He sidestepped and started to gather all his materials, waving Mr. Stark off saying he was fine.

"If you insist. Are you sure, kid?" Peter nodded and tried not to notice the relieved expression the other man wore. The two started walking out of the room. All the sudden Peter couldn't wait to get out of there.

"Um, Mr. Stark?" He spoke before they left and rejoined May. The man turned with an expectant look on his face. "Thank you. I promise I won't let you down."

"I have a feeling you won't, Peter."

* * *

May was elated by the news and couldn't contain her tears as they stood in the lobby and gave him a hug. Peter was only slightly embarrassed and wouldn't even let himself think the word jealous when she gave Mr. Stark a bear hug too. She grinned cheekily to the man who quickly stepped back and looked uncomfortable with the contact.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Peter worked so hard and I knew he had it in him."

"Please, Tony is fine and I'm looking forward to working together." He said with a wink. May laughed and invited Mr. Stark for dinner as thanks. That brought a whole slew of images. Some were negative: Mr. Stark entering their little apartment and storming out with a disgusted face. The man sneering at the chipped paint and dusty cupboards. Some were more positive. The three of them eating dinner as the snow fell outside the window and the fireplace burning bright. Peter shook those thoughts from his mind. They didn't even have a fireplace and why would Mr. Stark be eating with them anyway?

May gave Peter one more hug before Mr. Stark said goodbye. He left Peter with a stack of papers that needed signing and work plans he wanted Peter to brush up on. He was curious as to who the other interns were and realized he probably wasn't going to be seeing Mr. Stark all that much during the program. Peter squashed the empty feeling down at the thought.

The air was brisk when they walked down the stairs and Peter stared up at the building again. The city lights reflected and gleamed in the evening sun. The subway ride home was quiet but he could feel the energy radiating from May. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, whispering how proud she was of him.

When they got back home they started dinner. They combined leftovers with some vegetables on the edge of rotting from their fridge. Peter chopped and May cooked them together. Her song drifted through the kitchen as they worked and Peter found himself tapping to the tune. They chatted about the next chapter of the Austen he read for class. His hand came up to hide a laugh when May went on about the qualities of a certain dark haired gentleman.

Later, Peter sat on the escape ladder staring out. Layers of buildings blocked the whole view but he pretended he had enhanced vision that let him see the whole city. He imagined the feel of the wind through his hair as he flew through the city and he rose up, free from the burdens of his thoughts for a moment. As he opened his eyes he was disappointed to find himself back on the stair. Slipping into his bedroom the bed groaned under his weight and he closed his eyes. He could hear May roll over in the next room and wondered if she was sleeping yet.

His thoughts swirled, reflecting on the day and what new experiences Tony Stark would bring to his life.

* * *

I was so close to having them hug but I decided against it. More Irondad will come later though!

Thank you again! I'm on tumblr at Elizabeth-234. Come and Say hi!

Let me know what you think, Please!


	5. The Beginning

Hi friends! I hope you are doing well. Thank you for sticking with the story. Updates should be more regular from now on :) For those of you who are reading my other story I am working on a chapter of Someone to Care now and it should be up soon. Thanks again! This one is more a transition chapter but I hope you enjoy.

* * *

The alarm on his phone blared loud, interrupting a sleepless dream. Peter groaned as the bones in his neck popped under his stretch. Today was the day. The papers were signed, his schedule was cleared, and he was ready. As ready as he ever was going to be.

Once he dragged himself out of bed, Peter stared into the mirror attempting to comb his hair into place. The tool ran through one curl, taming it into place, when another would appear somewhere else. It was infuriating. He sighed giving up and threw the comb back into the drawer. There was a worn out hole in his sleeve right where his thumb rested. He kept pulling it down and unconsciously sticking his finger through the opening as he ran through the checklist in his head again. Not trusting his earlier preparations he hefted his backpack down on the bed and went through the folders again.

There would be enough time to make his way there and be a little early. He stuffed the folder back in his bag and left his room. The dishes covered in remnants were stacked in the sink and Peter glanced at his watch. There was enough time.

Quickly he soaped and dried the dishes. Once they were away he turned off the lights and left the apartment skipping down the stairs. He raised his hand in salute to the man lounging on his front porch, beer in hand. The subway was running on time today but Peter stopped to listen to his favorite saxophone street player. The coins that were in the bottom of one of his backpack pockets clinked together as they fell into the empty case in front of the player. Peter briefly glanced up and she nodded while continuing to play on the platform.

Looking at his watch again he realized he would be exactly on time if everything went smoothly. He elongated his pace and started power walking up the stairs. His breath came out in short puffs when he spotted a lady carrying one to many bags on her way out of a store.

His feet skidded to a halt as he spied her look both ways, head bending around the bags, before venturing out into the busy sidewalk. The woman wobbled between the people as they bumped her packages without a second glance.

He glanced at his watch again. Then back at the lady.

She was heading in the right direction after all. He bounced on the heels of his feet before plunging into motion. Navigating through the people he caught up with her just as one of the brown bags piled on top was about to teeter off. It fell forward and he reached to catch it. He didn't know if a touch on her shoulder would be welcome and he asked loudly so that she could hear if she needed further help. Her white hair peeped out from the bottom of her hat as she turned her head around the bags to look at him. A smile graced her lips and he could feel the tips of his ears heat.

"Yes, please. If it's not too much trouble." The bags weighed down his arms but he sealed a breath in and nodded.

"No trouble at all, Miss."

"Miss? I haven't been called that since I was a bit younger. Aren't you a polite thing?"

Peter could feel his cheeks ripen and they continued on to her apartment. Sweat gathered under his arms as small tremors traveled down to his fingers from the weight. A sigh of relief escaped him when the bags were finally in a cart located in the front lobby. She thanked Peter and pinched his cheek. He rubbed his hand across the sore spot and tried to ignore the clenching in his stomach at her contact. The woman's smile didn't fade as he mumbled that he needed to go. She just turned the little cart around.

The position of the arms on his watch alarmed him and once she was safely in the elevator he ran from the building. Down the street, dodging people as he went, he shuddered when he stepped into a puddle. He was breathing hard when he made it to the front desk. A ring of condensation formed under his fists resting on the desk and he could feel the water slushing in the soles of his shoes. The man working at the front desk glanced up and his eyes widened at the state of Peter.

"I'm sorry," he said in between wheezes. "I'm... "

"Peter Parker. Here's your badge. Just go straight up to lab five." He tempered the continued tremor in his hands and took the badge. Covertly wiping away the condensation with his sleeve he mumbled a thanks and walked up.

The outline of his face was visible in the elevator. He wiped his hand across his forehead and wiped the moisture on his pants. Peter's foot tapped against the wall and he checked to make sure his breath didn't smell. His head popped up to make sure there were no cameras watching his preening. When the gleam of the small screen caught his eye the blush erupted across his face and neck.

"Friday?" He asked hesitantly.

"Hello, Peter. How are you today?" Her voice was pleasant and immediately calmed him.

"I'm, uh, okay. How are you?"

"Today is a pleasant day. I'm happy to hear you are well. You seem to be overheated."

"Yeah, I've been running and late this morning."

"Here, let me help." A blast of cool air hit him and his bangs dried in a matter of seconds. He sighed as the tips of his hair curled around some invisible rod.

"Thanks, Friday! That's great."

"That's what I'm here for, Peter. Here you are. Lab five is down the hall to the right."

"Thanks again. I, I hope you have a nice day."

"And you as well." Peter smiled up into the air, unsure of where to look before scrabbling through the closing doors. The weight on his shoulders hadn't lessened but he felt, for a moment, that he was more able to carry it. He glanced at his watch and cringed. Twenty minutes late for his first day. Would they fire him?

He stopped in front of the doors and let his eyes loose focus. He could do this. Mr. Stark said they chose him. He had to do this. His eyes lifted and the doors slid open on their own.

The breath caught in his throat when he spied a dozen eyes glancing back at him. His palms and forehead cold from Friday's help now were drenched. Peter mumbled an apology and slipped into the first open seat he saw. Flash was seated in the front and the butterflies in his stomach swarmed. He was happy Flash had made it but the nerves the boy evoked were still there.

The woman in front started talking again, not calling attention to his interruption.

"As I was saying you were all chosen for a reason and now represent the Stark brand. Therefore …." She went on to talk about the rules for the interns and expectations. Peter zoned out and concentrated on minimizing the sweat he was rapidly accumulating.

"Now, since there are eight of you, for the majority of the project you will be spilt into two groups of four. That way you can get to know each other more but it will be more coherent group work."

The butterflies lessened when he found out he was in a different group then Flash. Instead he was with an older boy named Frank, Monica, and the last was young like him. Her name was Julia. She gave him a smile before looking down when they met eyes. Frank took charge and had them all introduce themselves to the group.

Frank was a senior in high school and couldn't wait to go to college. He seemed levelheaded and encouraged the others to talk. Monica went next. She was practical and already had more than one internship. There was a steel glint to her eye that made Peter nervous but overall was professional. Peter liked Julia the best. She was younger than him and almost as nervous. Julia stammered a little with her introduction but managed to smile at the end.

Frank was sure they would work well together and didn't seem put off by Peter's quiet demeanor. Peter found out that the head intern's name was Lee and everyone seemed to like her. They would be working on a project together and have smaller weekly check-ins with the group leader. Frank elected himself and he would be in charge of the monthly updates to Lee. They plotted out a schedule so some days they would be working together and others they would be able to work on their separate piece they were responsible for.

Pages of Peter's notebook were filled with notes by the time they were done. He had just got his teammates numbers when Lee called him over. He flinched down; sure she was going to reprimand him for coming late. Her voice was soft and he looked up under his eyelashes.

"You've been asked to stay after today. There were some papers of yours that needed fixing. After your done with your group head on up to lab two."

He walked away on unsteady legs and cursed himself for not paying enough attention. Mentally he went through the list of papers and couldn't think of one he missed. He had checked and rechecked to make sure he had everything.

"What was that all about?" Monica asked as she looked up from her notebook, the words were meticulous in their neatness.

"Oh, uh, just more paperwork, I guess." She snorted in sympathy and went back to note taking.

"Alright. This looks good. Glad you dudes are ready to work. I've got to get to work but I look forward to working with each other." Frank nodded at them before leaving with Monica.

Julia sat there staring down at her notebook reading when Peter noticed it was blank.

"Hey, uh, Julia right?" She looked up startled and nodded before looking down again.

"I really like your pen." He cringed at the bad segue but was surprised when her expression brightened.

"Thanks! This is actually the prototype of what I did on my audition. It memorizes what you write and plugs it into an app I programmed. The newer model is way cooler but I'm afraid I might break it if I use it all the time… Sorry you didn't ask for that whole explanation."

"No, that sounds cool. I wish I had something like that in class. It would be easier to keep track of everything." She looked up to him and blushed.

"If you want I could make you one?"

"You, you don't have to at all."

"I have a bunch at home so it's no problem." They came to the elevators and he stopped.

"Thanks, Julia. It was good meeting you. I have more paperwork to fill out so I'm heading up."

Her smile remained in place and Peter hoped that he got to know her better. He felt a kind of kindred with her and recognized many of his own traits in her. They waved goodbye and Peter made his way up. Friday directed him to lab two. The doors were shut but as Peter reached to knock they opened on their own. He really had to get used to that.

Peter stopped for a moment when he saw Mr. Stark facing away from him, scrolling through a screen in midair.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?"

"Come on back, kid." Peter made his way past the different tables piled with materials, forcing himself forward so he wouldn't be caught staring. The man didn't turn around but patted a seat next to him.

"How was the first day?" Peter fidgeted to get comfortable but gave up because it was causing too much noise. Uncomfortably, he crossed his legs so he would stay balanced.

"Oh, it was great Mr. Stark. Thank you again."

"Give me something more than just the word great." Peter was silent, not sure what to say, how he would describe the day. The man swirled to look at Peter.

"Let's start with who's in your group?" The man asked, his eyebrows rose in curiosity. Peter ran his fingers along the edge of the table while he answered.

"There's Frank, who seems nice. He's been a good leader so far. Monica is intimating but again seems nice and Julia is really sweet. She's even younger than me!" He looked up to find Mr. Stark smiling at him. The man's eyes softened.

"That's probably the longest sentence you've ever said to me, kid. Thank you." That made Peter's heart clench for some reason but he couldn't bring himself to say anything in response. "Anyway, I have a proposition for you. I know you will be busy with the stuff downstairs but I didn't know if you wanted to come help me out sometimes on another side project?"

"Yes!" He spoke without thinking. He didn't have to think about it, was more than willing to help out Mr. Stark.

"Hold on, you don't even know what it is for."

"It's okay, I want to help."

"Have it your way but you should ask your aunt's permission before you commit. I'll expect a definite answer next time you come." Peter nodded already knowing May would be fine with it.

"You are free to stay for a bit or can go if you have somewhere to be."

"I'll stay if you're sure I'm not in the way."

"I'm just tinkering." Mr. Stark swung back around to look at the images hovering. They were parts of some design Peter never had seen before and he hesitantly asked the man. He answered politely. Mr. Stark seemed content to answer but Peter didn't want to mess with his thinking process and just sat quickly next to him.

Mr. Stark got absorbed in his work and Peter quietly pulled out his Austen. He was working on _Sense and Sensibility_ now. He was sucked into his own world and it wasn't until someone's back popped that he was brought back. Mr. Stark rubbed his eyes and looked around. They widened when they saw Peter sitting, still there.

"Peter? Have you been there for the whole time?"

Peter hunched his back into himself. "I'm sorry Mr. Stark! I just thought…"

"No don't apologize. It's my fault it's so late. Let's get you some food and I'll have someone take you home."

Peter jumped up. "Its okay! I can get home myself."

"Listen, I insist. I can tell you've got a protective one in May I am sure she wouldn't want me to send a starving child back to her." Peters face burned in embarrassment. Mr. Stark clapped him on the shoulder and led them up a set of stairs Peter hadn't seen before. There were surprisingly little options and Mr. Stark pulled out a frozen pizza from the freezer. It was heating and they sat in silence.

Peter looked around in awe what looked like some type of apartment. All of the counters were immaculate and the furniture was beautiful but it was missing something. He glanced back at Mr. Stark whose back was turned toward the stove before looking around again. There were no pictures on the walls. In his apartment May made sure that all their family photos were hanging on the walls. It was one of the things he hated after Ben left because every time he walked in their naïve smiling faces loomed in front of him.

Here, though, the room was sparse. There was art hanging on the wall, large books on a coffee table but nothing that spoke of the person who lived here. It looked more like a museum or spread in an architecture magazine than a home.

Peter played with the hole in his shirt trying to gather the nerve to speak to the man. For once Mr. Stark seemed to feel Peter's own awkward nature and it was rubbing off on him. They ate in silence and not for the first time Peter wished that he could interact like a normal human. Mr. Stark made sure he had thirds of pizza, which left Peter with a warm feeling.

When they finished Mr. Stark offered to drive him home or have someone drive him but Peter resisted fully this time. He thanked Mr. Stark who stared at him hard when he refused to let someone drive him home again.

"Thank you for the pizza and everything. Have a good night, Mr. Stark." Peter could feel the man's eyes trained on him as he got into the elevator. As the doors were closing he looked up to meet those eyes and gave a small wave. It might have been the distance between them but he thought he saw Mr. Stark's eyes soften for a moment.

Peter breathed a sigh when the doors shut and the elevator moved. He thanked Friday for all her help that day and she wished him a good night.

The air was cool and the city sounds cocooned him in familiar comfort. Peter cringed at his dismal conversation skills and wondered why Mr. Stark invited him to stay. Why the man was even paying attention to him at all?

* * *

Thanks to everyone who has read, favorited, commented, etc. It means the WORLD to me! I'm on tumblr at Elizabeth-234, come and say hi!

Let me know what you think, please!


	6. Not so Empty Classrooms

Hi Friends! I hope everyone is doing great this September. Thank you for sticking with this story! I hope you enjoy the newest section.

* * *

The subway ride home passed in a blur. The car was crowded but Peter paid no mind to the man arguing with his three children to sit down in their seats or to the group of women that sat huddled at the other end of the car. He didn't even bother putting in ear buds, which was one of the tools he used to survive in public space. The background sound allowed him to concentrate on something other than what was going on around him. A place like the subway, one that was filled with noise and people necessitated space from those external influences. Sometimes the lights would glare or someone would laugh to close to him and his head was left reeling. The music would let him distance himself from those sensations until he was back in a safe place.

That evening none of those distractions could bring him out of his thoughts and by routine alone he made his way back to the apartment. He didn't bother to switch on the lights and as he walked through the rooms the floors creaked under his feet. His clothes were a weird mixture of damp and stiffly dried material and he threw them into the dirt laundry pile; a pile that looked remarkably similar to the clean pile right next to it.

Peter headed to the bathroom that he shared with May. He observed the way her bottles of skincare were stacked, teetering on the ledge behind the sink and how the toilet, sink, and shower were all on top of each other. At least it made cleaning easier.

He studied himself in the mirror, the top of which was milky from water permanently. The only thing saving him from taunts about his protruding ears was the mop of curly hair covering them. His eyes migrated from the peninsulas to his small frame. He was aware of how small he had been as a child but now it was increasingly obvious now that his classmates were going through growth spurts. Peter stared at his naked torso as one would look at a science dissection. The bit of fat was malleable under his fingers and he tried to flex the muscles there but saw no difference. The thirty-day abs challenge seemed like a good idea until he forgot about it until the last week.

He pinched it harder, observing the redness that spread out from his fingers. With a sigh he turned away rubbing the sore spot, and stepped into the shower. His hands shook as he went through his routine faster than normal. He never liked the way their landlord looked at May so he volunteered to go ask about the water problem. He had yet to gather the courage so for now they suffered through a cold shower.

The bed beckoned to him from the doorway but he resisted. Peter paused only to gather a blanket and crept out onto the fire escape. Once the warm cover was situated in the right spot over his shoulder and the corner sat folded in his lap as a perfect rest, he started tinkering with one of his receivers. The message in Morse code came loud and clear. He listened to the dits and dahs, and then transmitted his own message back. The sound of their conversation lulled Peter into a pleasant focus. He only looked up to watch the red colors of the sunset turn to the darkness of the night sky.

* * *

Peter quelled the urge to sigh into his hand again. He was sure that school had never been this long before and wished for nothing more than to be on his fire escape taking to Dave from Dayton on his Ham radio. It had been a perfect night. The frequencies were open and strong.

The classroom sat in tense silence while Mrs. Brzozowski waited with the patience of a saint for an answer. She turned to look directly at him with the expression that plainly said, "I know you know the answer", and he felt cajoled into raising his hand. The smile she gave him when he correctly interpreted the meaning of Mary's choice in book made his chest clench and a small smile appear on his face but it quickly faltered when he heard laughter behind him. He knew better than to look a see who laughed. Nothing would come from letting them know he heard and his head remained frozen frontward. The only thing making the day bearable from there on out was the knowledge he was going to the Tower after school.

A bundle of nerves formed in his stomach at the thought of going back. Although he got the confirmation and went through the orientation, the whole experience didn't feel real yet. The seat he sat in at orientation never warmed under him and the building felt too pristine for him to frequent. He resolved himself to work hard and prove that he should be there. If he did that then no one could kick him out.

The bell rang and Peter went through the motions of a school day. The lunchroom doors stood in front of him and he moved to the side to allow the other students to file in. There was an apple in his bag but the thought of eating made him queasy. Instead of entering he followed the hallway down and turned into the bathroom. The seat was cold and the stall was quiet. Peter flushed the empty bowl and then let the water drip on his hands. He avoided looking in the mirror and wandered out of the bathroom.

He could go to the library but it was surprisingly busy during the day. The thought of facing anyone else made his empty stomach flip so he wandered the halls looking for an empty classroom. Somewhere he could relax for a moment before the bustling students took over. His eyes caught the sight of an open door and it was too tempting to pass up. Most of lunchtime was left, Peter was tired, and he didn't want to walk around anymore. His eyes followed his feet dragging across the floor when someone coughed.

His eyes flicked upward as his body froze in place. Peter eased his arms in front of him and he pulled his legs together, aware that he was standing in the middle of the front of the classroom. The boy sat in the middle of the room with books and papers spread around him and Peter remembered they had been in a class together before. The boy's dark hair was straight and hung down to his full cheeks. His eyes were furrowed and Peter wanted to leave before he interrupted even more.

"I'm sorry," He said. "I didn't know anyone was in here. I'll get out of your way."

"Peter, right?" Peter's back tensed as he faced the door. He nodded but stayed where he was. "You can stay here. I only was working on some homework that I didn't get done last night. That is if you want to?"

It was the hesitation in his voice that had Peter looking back and nodding. In slow steps he wound through the desks and took a seat two rows away from the boy. His backpack slouched on his lap and the straps wrinkled between his fingers. Should he talk to him? Or should he just mind his own business?

It turned out that he didn't have to worry about making any decisions.

"I'm Ned. I think we've had a few classes together before." Peter glanced up before studying the grains in the wood.

"Yeah, first term choir with Mr. Netterbocker?" Ned's hand hit the desk and Peter barely suppressed a flinch.

"Dude, I thought he would kill that Sam girl if she chewed gum in class one more time." Sam was someone in their grade who chewed gum everyday without fail to the irritation of their choir director. A smile stole across Peter's face as he looked toward the boy, noticing that he was wearing a Star Wars shirt. He liked Star Wars.

"Sam," Peter mimicked their teacher. "Let the sound out. You can't do that with gum. Now round the O sounds." He blushed when Ned laughed at his poor imitation.

"Exactly! He almost had an aneurysm when she coughed too hard at the concert and spit a piece out onto stage." A giggle bubbled out of him and before he knew it the boys were laughing and pretending to trace the trajectory of the missile. Peter wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at Ned not noticing that the boy had moved a row closer while they talked.

"Not into the lunch room scene today?" Ned asked. The earnest curiosity in his tone compelled Peter to answer at least with part honesty. Peter played with the strap of his backpack.

"You could say that."

"Dude, you don't have to be nice. The freshman suck, Flash especially." Without thinking Peter looked up and stared at Ned who was back to reading the papers in front of him.

"He's not so bad." Peter spoke quietly, afraid to show that he actually kind of liked Flash even though he was a bully, nervous Ned wouldn't like him because he didn't agree. Ned snorted without looking up.

"You're too nice." He wasn't sure how to answer so he stayed silent. His fingers worked against a knot he somehow tied into the straps but it was too tight and he ended up bending his nail.

"Hey Peter." Ned was standing by the door with his stuff put away. Lunch must already be over with. "Congrats by the way. On the contest. That must be so sick. Have you met Stark yet?" Peter hurried to the door while Ned waited.

"Um, yeah, I met him once."

Ned's eyes widened and questions tumbled out of his mouth, asking Peter what happened, what his house was like, and if Mr. Stark was super cool. Peter was overwhelmed but tried to answer in between the continuous inquiries. He wasn't sure he got his thoughts correctly across and he didn't want to gossip. Ned seemed nice enough but Peter felt… protective, for lack of a better word, about the time he spent with Mr. Stark.

On one hand, like the contest, he was sure it was real. He had physical papers and from them a lingering hope seeded in him. On the other hand he still didn't understand what a man like Tony Stark was doing with someone like him. The trails that thought led were dark and overgrown so Peter shook his head. He was surprised to see that Ned continued to walk beside him and was telling Peter all these facts about Iron Man.

They stood at the corner of two hallways. Peter listened while Ned talked, admiring the way his arms moved in tandem with his words and how he didn't have to keep an eye out for any people that passed them. His own eyes followed them until they were out of his line of sight and then he wished he could sense them when they were out of his sight.

The warning bell went off but Peter couldn't bring himself to move. It was the first time he stood idly in the halls talking with someone. Peter felt the blush creep up his cheeks at the thought. He, Peter Parker, was chatting with Ned before class. Ned clapped him on the shoulder saying they should talk again before turning to go to class.

"Hey, Ned." He called before the boy walked out of hearing and Peter scrunched his nose at the one girl who stared at him for being loud. "I, uh, I like your shirt." Ned smiled and waved before turning the corner.

Peter leaned back against the lockers pondering what just happened. All he was looking for was a quiet place to hide and he came across, well, he wasn't quiet sure. He hurried to class barely making it in time but couldn't wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day.

* * *

The elevator buzzed around him as Peter rested his against the side. He was quiet, thinking about his interaction with Ned, before he remembered his manners.

"Hi Friday! How are you doing today?" He tilted his head up still not entirely sure where to look but figured the effort would be noted.

"I am doing well. Thank you for asking. And how are you doing today?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um," he said thinking about his day. "I'm not running late today, at least."

"Yes, you seem to be perfectly punctual." He hoped it was humor he heard in her voice.

"Are there, um, is anyone else from the program here today?"

It wasn't that he was nervous. At least not yet, but there was this thin feeling permeating his bones. It had been a very long day so far and if there was no one there he could let himself get lost in the project for the afternoon.

"There are two members of the other group here, Peter. If you want I can show you to another lab and…"

"No! I mean, sorry for interrupting, but I don't want to create more work for you. I just was curious." His fingers tightened on the knot he made earlier and stepped off the elevator. "Thank you Friday. I, uh, thanks for talking to me."

"It's my pleasure, Peter." He nodded and then went to find his way.

The doors opened without warning, he reminded himself to try and get used to that, and he saw the two members working at a table in the middle of the room. The two smiled as he passed but went right back to work. He let out a breath he had been holding when he found a table tucked away against one of the windows. The view of New York was one of his favorites and he took a second to appreciate where he was… and why. With his notebook and pen out he started working on his outline.

The hours went by and the next time Peter surfaced he couldn't see the skyline anymore. The room was quiet and he was alone. His papers were scattered around him and he gathered them up, periodically glancing about the room as he did.

While there were never official hours mentioned, he had a feeling that he shouldn't be here. He stuffed the papers into his backpack and made his way toward the exit. The hallway was light brightly compared to the room and Peter swallowed before turning down the hallway. He heard the clicking of shoes and pushed himself against the wall before realizing it wasn't hiding him.

The doors in the hallway were all closed and he would have been even more nervous to wander in one that wasn't meant for him. The clicking came closer and he resumed walking to the elevator, making sure his head was down. The door was open and there were a pair of shoes already present.

He raised his head without making eye contact and wished it were just him and Friday in the small room. The shoes were some type of heel and Peter was in awe of anyone who could walk in them, let alone take the confident strides he heard earlier. He switched his gaze to his own sneakers, noting the way the sides of the shoe spilt over the soles. His toes pressed against the brim but they were his favorite shoes and he didn't want to get rid of them. Still, he couldn't help the flare of shame that clawed its way in him at the comparison between footwear. This was a fancy lady and she shouldn't have to share the elevator with him.

"Long day?" Her voice was solid but smooth and Peter was reminded of May when she was more serious. He glanced up and blushed. Pepper Potts was in the elevator with him.

It was a shock to many when Mr. Stark handed control of his company to her but the profit margins and successes following the transition were proof enough of her expertise. She was a formidable woman and Peter looked up to her almost as much as Mr. Stark.

"H-hi, I mean, hello. I mean, yes it has. Not that it was bad. I mean I got a lot of work done if that's what you're asking but it was long because of school and I'm sorry." His head dropped a fraction while he clenched his hands around the knot. "How-how was your day, Mrs. Potts?"

"Same here. Work was long but it looks like we both had productive days." Peter smiled, keeping his face forward. The elevator seemed to be going slower than normal and Peter wondered if Friday had something to do with it before passing the thought off.

"You can call me Pepper. Mrs. Potts sounds so stuffy. You were in the S.T.A.R.K. contest? The Weaver, right?"

He could have been hit by a train and swept away right there and then. How could he call her by her first name? It might be one of his odd tics but since he was young he always called adults with a title. It was polite and what May and Ben taught him. Not to mention that she remembered him. That could be a good thing but Peter was convinced it was because of his poor performance at the contest. The blush intensified and he nodded.

"Um, It's Peter, Ms. Potts. Yes, I made the synthetic webs."

"That's what it was. I hope you are like it here."

"Everyone has been beyond accommodating." He said hoping that placated the searching stare he could feel on his face.

"Peter?" She asked, her voice softer than before. He looked over and was drawn in by the calming expression in her eyes. For some reason he had the errant thought of the day Ben and May took him to the ocean for the first time. It was overcast and the waves were crowned with white peaks. Peter held no fear in his tiny limbs and he ran straight for the water. As if it knew what Peter was seeking the waves calmed for a moment and let the little boy dip his hands in the water, leaving him room to turn to his watchers and show them the wet digits. Her eyes were the same color of the waves that day and Peter's breathing slowed imperceptibly.

"If you need anything don't hesitate to ask anyone. In fact," she paused to open a portfolio binder and handed him a card. "Here is my number if you ever need anything."

He inspected the card and when he looked up the elevator stopped. Ms. Potts was waiting with her hand stopping the door from closing so he could exit.

"That's, um, thank you." He said backtracking from rejecting the number at her firm look. The lobby was empty and Peter offered to walk her out to her car. He should have known she had a driver waiting for her out front. His fingers curled around the handle as he opened the door for her. She thanked him and complemented his manners, which brought another bout of blush to his face.

"Do you need a ride home, Peter? We can take you."

"No," He said quickly and then continued firmly. "It's okay, Ms. Potts. Thank you though. I can get home just fine. Thank you, again."

She insisted once more but Peter was resolute. They said goodbye and he was left standing on the steps alone. Summer was just around the corner but the spring breeze cut through his thin jacket. He wrapped it around his shoulders tighter before walking down the steps.

At the base of the stairs he turned back to take in the building once more. The structure truly was a marvel and he tried to convince himself he could see the window he looked out of before. He popped his ear buds in and started home. It seemed like a million years since yesterdays subway ride. Peter's eyes were heavy as the car chugged along and he stared out the window with blurry vision watching the people waiting at their own stops. It had indeed been a long day but a small smile traced Peter's face as he thought about it.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, and followed, etc. I am beyond grateful!

Let me know what you think, please.


	7. Friday, Friends, and Jet Rockets

Hi Friends! Happy Tuesday. Hope your week started off great and continues the same way! I am going to be doing Whumptober and if any of you have prompts or want to talk about that or anything in general you can find me on tumblr at Elizabeth-234.

Here is the next part of Peter's journey. I can't say it enough but thank you all for the support. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Sir- uh, Mr. Stark?" Peter stood haunting the doorway. His eyes rested slightly above the man's left shoulder as he waited for a reply.

The whole day flew by in a blink. Ned stopped him as he was leaving school and gave Peter his number. He twitched, stopping himself from looking left and right to make sure Ned was talking to him. He handed Ned his phone, thankful the boy didn't comment that it was a flip phone, and then put his number into Ned's. Ned, easy going as ever Peter was learning, just thanked him and told Peter they would talk before walking back into school. Peter watched him as Ned waved and walked up to another group of people. He stood there looking at the ease at which Ned moved and he could hear fragments of his voice carried through the wind.

Peter hurried along straight to the Tower, skipping food so he wouldn't be as late. Once he found a seat on the subway he ignored the temptation to make sure the number was real in his phone.

Peter avoided the empty classroom at lunch that week and instead opted to sit in the library. A fact he regretted as soon as he saw the amount of people in the room. There was an empty table in the back and he made his way there, thinking wistfully that maybe he should have gone to the classroom. The time passed like he was waiting at the Secretary of State, half fearful he would miss something important and absolutely hating being there every second he sat in the uncomfortable seat. A glutton for punishment Peter entered the library everyday that week with the knowledge that Ned would forget about him before long.

This was, to his surprise, wrong. Ned somehow found him in the school at one point or another. Sometimes he would just wave and yell hi to Peter on the way to class. By the end of the week Peter could manage to wave back and not shrink into himself. Only the blush across his cheeks would give any of his internal embarrassment away. Another time Ned found him before school. Peter was leaning on the locker waiting for the teacher to get there. He had a dream last night about Mr. Stark throwing him out of the Tower and Peter didn't get much sleep. Ned bounded over, clapped Peter on the back, and started talking to him about some gossip in school. Peter had a hard time following Ned's line of thought (it sounded more like conspiracy theories than high school life) but he nodded and managed to stifle a yawn.

Each time Ned found him, Peter felt less surprised. It was nice to have someone want to be near you and Peter lapped up the attention while trying to maintain a distance. From experience he knew it was best not get invested in these things. The name Sam Carlson still left a sour taste in his mouth. Peter enjoyed the acquaintanceship while it still breathed life.

His phone burned inside his pocket but he went straight to lab five to find Monica already waiting for him. They were working on updating the information for their project today. Her raised eyebrow said more than any words could have and they settled into work. The pen scribbles broken by minor directions from his partner for the day.

It was mindless work and he found himself falling in line with Monica's stern guidance. There was a ton of paperwork to be done before they could begin on their project and it couldn't have been a better day to complete it. His mind kept drifting away. May noticed his preoccupations right away the night before but he felt stupid admitting to her that he was sort of freaking out that someone was talking to him.

He was… unsure. That was the perfect word to describe him at the moment. He was unsure what the right things to say to Ned were. He was unsure whether he wanted a friend at all. He was unsure whether he should be at the internship and he was unsure what Mr. Stark wanted with him. It all was weighing down on him and his mind was trying to play Ping-Pong with his thoughts. Inevitably, they came back to how it could all go wrong.

The paperwork was slow moving and he wasn't half done when Monica finished hers so he stayed after not wanting to take the subway home yet. He was filling out the group members names on a consent form when Friday told him that Mr. Stark was waiting in lab two and to please head up there. All to eager he packed up the papers and went to the elevator chatting with Friday on the way. The extent of Friday's conscious was unknown to Peter but he liked to imagine that the AI answered his questions honestly and because they wanted to. May thought it was good conversation practice either way.

Standing in front of Mr. Stark Peter tried to keep Ned's actions from his mind and keep his focus. The man's goatee bent down for a moment before flipping to a smile.

"Just the person I was looking for. I wanted to get your opinion on something." He said as he turned toward the workbench. Peter's breath caught as he stared at the man's back.

No longer was his breath stolen by the large building as it had when he first stood before it with May. The sight filled Peter with a quiet awe and a grateful warmth would strike him every time he gleaned the silver parapets but he knew that he would never get used to Mr. Stark asking for his opinion.

The man's hands waved in the air as hologram panels appeared. Mr. Stark played with the models hovering in front of them. The trial prototypes were tweaked with precision and then tested to see if they were viable. From what Peter observed it looked like some type of jet but on a smaller scale and more powerful. Ideas and impossible applications flickered to life in his mind. His backpack slid to the ground and without a sound Peter walked forward so he was standing just behind Mr. Stark.

Peter waited to see if he would say anything but his eyes stayed forward on the work. His breath came a little easier and he could think clearer knowing that the question was probably rhetorical. No solutions were necessary. Not that this needed any help. As the model spun around it reminded him of why Tony Stark was considered a genius. The man didn't turn around, but spoke quietly like he was aware he might break the spell.

"Pretty amazing, right?"

Peter nodded and said, "It's amazing Mr. Stark. The things you could do with that."

He did turn then fixing Peter in the center of his attention. It was unnerving to say the least and his body had a visceral reaction. The breath hitched in his chest and started to mimic the pounding of his heart. The pockets of his pants tightened around his fists and the floor with all the marbling became the most fascinating thing. The sensations trapped him inside of himself making him unaware that Mr. Stark leaned toward him. He stared at the ground overcome. Why couldn't the man just turn around?

"Peter..." Mr. Stark said in a low tone. Peter's face flamed as he tried to push the words out, but they were stuck on his tongue. All he needed to get out was something to show Mr. Stark he wasn't a complete reprobate. To his mortification a gurgle of a noise came out of his mouth instead of any words he pictured. His mouth stung where he clamped his hand over.

Peter took in two terribly long breaths and enunciated when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

"It's okay, Peter." He said and added with a grin, "I didn't know it was that cool." He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck but didn't pause long and went straight into an explanation of exactly what it was.

Peter was left with no time to worry and found himself in the chair next to Mr. Stark. The majority of the time Peter reminded Mr. Stark of a lost train of thought but throughout it the man never shied away from asking what he thought even after what happened before.

On they brainstormed and with the surprisingly comfortable chair, Peter found himself relaxing. He found his vocal chords once more and put the incident out of his mind for the time being. It wasn't until the sunset intruded into the room that both of them looked up.

"Ah, time just got away from me. I'm sure you had better things to do." Peter was mortified to see a rare flare of blush across the man's cheeks.

"No!" He replied quickly. "This was great Mr. Stark. Really."

The man looked around the room for a second, reacquainting himself with the present, before settling on Peter again.

"How about some dinner?"

* * *

His feet pounded on the sidewalk as he went up the steps of the almost familiar building. Peter couldn't tell if he was running toward the Tower or away from school. Maybe both. Ned sat with him again today and Peter wasn't sure if it went better or worse than their first meeting.

The most forthcoming problem was that he didn't understand Ned's motives of seeking him out in the first place and now Peter was positive that Ned was doing it on purpose instead of an accident. His routine was all out of place and the acid in his stomach had been churning all day. This time it was Ned who found Peter during lunch. Peter was hiding at the back table in the library, his lunch forgotten at home in his rush to get to school on time. There was an abundant amount of people occupying the room and Peter lost his appetite when someone asked to sit diagonal from him at the table. All he could do was nod and stare at his unfinished math homework trying to ignore the other person at the table.

Something slammed into the table causing the librarian and him to glance over sharply at the cause. Ned shrugged and smiled wide at Peter. In return he felt his own tentative smile rise up. The boy sat down and started whispering about the day's events like they did this everyday. Like they were friends.

It was one of the characteristics Peter liked most about Ned. He would dive right into something. There was no asking to sit or he never seemed upset when Peter couldn't make eye contact or if he was a little weird sometimes. Ned just said what he thought. It helped that the boy was a kind person at heart so his words were never vicious. It was normal and Peter was left reeling.

Peter somehow convinced himself that it was all a coincidence, that Ned had felt obligated to seek Peter out. It was weird enough they talked that first time but every time after he felt more and more confused. He tried to ignore the person who was at their table besides Ned and cringed as he found himself laughing but couldn't bring himself to stop. Peter thought that it might be nice to have a friend.

Of course something had to give eventually and the bubble that Peter had been floating around in burst at Ned's simple inquiry.

"Hey man, do you want to eat lunch with me and a few other people next week?"

Peter twisted his hands in the hem of his sweater as he avoided Ned's eye. It wasn't a big deal, he told himself. It was just lunch. But what if it was all a prank? What if he said something embarrassing? Everyone would stare at him. He may have Ned fooled but other people might not be so overlooking of his quirks. Peter stalled and the bell rang before he could properly answer.

That was how he found himself running decidedly away from school and the boy that would not give up on him. Would Ned not want to be his friend anymore? Peter's shoes skidded to a halt and wondered if he wanted a friend. He realized that he did. Ned was nice. He had a casual way of talking and Peter liked that he called him Pete sometimes. The boy always had something to say and it put his mind at ease to listen to his excited talking about anything and everything.

He stewed in his thoughts of how to apologize to Ned as he made his way to lab five. His arms crossed in front of him as the elevator took him up.

"Hello Peter. You seem to be in distress. Is there anything I can do for you?" His gaze dropped, eyes wide on the floor. In his haste he forgot to greet Friday.

"I'm…It's nothing. Thank you though." The AI was quiet and Peter's heart dropped a moment. Was she mad? "I mean, I'm... " He sighed and lifted his large eyes before continuing. "How do you make a friend Friday?"

It was silent and Peter waited for Friday to answer.

"I think you already have all the skills to make a friend, Peter." He strode forward aware he could leave the elevator now that they reached the floor but frustrated with the vague answer.

"But how? I've never made one before and it's so… difficult talking to people and I'm me, Friday. Sometimes I come home so exhausted from school because... I don't know why! I just don't get people sometimes. I feel so disconnected from them."

It was silent again and Peter hugged his arms around his middle. "I'm your friend, Peter." A blush stained his cheek at the statement. "You took the time to ask me how I was doing and you always greet me. You are kind and show interest in me. It is nice and I think that's what friendship is."

Peter felt five years old again and dug his toe into the floor.

"I- I think so too Friday. I'm sorry, that was inconsiderate of me."

"There is no apology necessary. I think the saying goes is to 'be yourself' and Peter?" She paused waiting for a sign he heard. "You are a good friend."

Peter nodded not keeping the smile off of his face and went to step off the elevator before Friday spoke again. "The boss wants to see you in lab two today."

"Um, okay. Thanks Friday. Have a good day."

"You as well Peter." He smiled at the affection in her voice and he took a deep breath, his step lighter after their talk.

The room was empty when Peter arrived and he hovered in the doorway unsure if he could enter. Friday did say that Mr. Stark wanted to see him but no one was there. He rocked back and forth for a moment before entering the room, making sure to steer clear of anything fragile.

He waited in the middle of the room before taking a lap, stopping to look out the large windows before walking to the front again. The plans for the machine were glowing in the air and caught Peter's eye.

That technology was amazing in itself. The three-dimensional model made brainstorming and testing parts that much easier. It would be handy to have when he built his radios instead of doing it blind. Sometimes they wouldn't work out and Peter was left with no radio and a bunch of spare parts.

Before he knew it his hand rose up and the design spun before him. He retracted his hand as if he had been burned and spun around to make sure no one saw his meddling.

The limb struck out on it's own again and the idea from yesterday arrived in the forepart of his brain. He looked around again and sat down in the chair. It would be easy if he applied it to the specific scenario.

Peter forgot to keep looking around and as if he had been doing it his whole life his hands manipulated the holograms. He was so focused on his work that he didn't hear the doors slid open.

"Whatcha working on?" Peter's arms stopped midair and he whipped around to see Mr. Stark leaning against the wall. The man was smiling but his hand dropped like lead and the chair screeched as it moved back.

"I'm sorry Mr. Stark. It was nothing. I shouldn't have touched it."

"It doesn't look like nothing. No, you don't have to apologize." He said to Peter's widening eyes. "It's okay, Peter. Show me what your idea was." Peter swallowed before looking down. "I want to see it, please."

It was the please that got him. Mr. Stark shouldn't have to say please. The man was the boss and Peter was compelled to acquiesce to his request. He could feel Mr. Stark standing right next to him and tried not breath too loudly.

Peter brought the design up and started to explain. Mr. Stark was quiet, only asking questions and prompting Peter to continue when he faltered in the explanation.

"Let's run it in a test scenario. You saw me do it yesterday right?"

Peter nodded slowly once. He was sitting in the seat Mr. Stark was in yesterday and it felt too big. He thought the man would want his seat back but Mr. Stark just sat in the next one over. Under his lashes he looked over at Mr. Stark and took in his hunched back and elbows on the desk. He was leaning forward as his eyes stared at the projections.

Peter set up the test run and the two of them watched as a black car drove down the highway. First he showed Mr. Stark what would happen without the jets. They watched as two cars collided into each other causing one to flip and roll down the median. Next, Peter ran it with the jets.

The car was mostly translucent showing the engines along with the lining of the car. It continued driving when another car came onto the highway next to it. This second car was silver and out of nowhere cut off the black one, almost hitting it. Their test run went into slow motion and the trajectory of their test car appeared heading straight for the blue car. Then with a burst of light their miniaturized jets came on and the trajectory line changed. Instead the test car slowed and changed the angle with the propellants of the jets so that it was free and clear of all obstacles.

It wasn't a perfect first run, they seldom were, and on moving away from the blue car the engines steered it too close to the road barrier. It had to correct the path last minute and at first came away with too much damage for their satisfaction. At the end of their tinkering the car came away with significantly less damage than before.

Mr. Stark let out a whistle as he leaned back into the seat.

"I mean it's just an idea. I think that…"

"This could work Peter."

"I mean it's not even my idea. I actually got it from footage of Iron Man, uh, you and how the your suit works in the same way."

"Well, that may be but you," he paused and Peter looked up at him. "You connect the dots, Peter. Not me. Let's work on the preventative part of it some more. I think that if we…"

The two worked side by side for the remainder of the day. Peter didn't notice that his hands were steady or how his voice was clearer than it was the previous week. He didn't know that his eyes connected with Mr. Stark's as he went through more revisions. As they sat there and ate Peter took second helpings at Mr. Stark's request but didn't protest nearly as much. Peter didn't notice that his smile stayed longer that day but the man beside him did.

* * *

Thanks friends for reading, leaving a like and comment. It makes my day!

Let me know what you think, please!


	8. The Ned Saga

Hi Friends! Thank you all for the lovely comments and for sticking with the story. I really appreciate it. Here is the next part!

* * *

Peter's face was lit up by the screen lying in front of him. His eyes stared unseeing at the wall in front of him. The words he received continuously cycling through his mind. The light went dark again and without blinking Peter pressed one of the arrow buttons, casting the glow back onto his face.

What should he do?

There was the obvious answer of ghosting Ned. It would be the easiest and least messy way to get through this whole situation. All he had to do was ignore the message and get on with his life. Maybe avoid the classroom, the library, and any other places Ned might show up. Which could be anywhere. At any time. Ned had a way of showing up exactly when Peter was trying to hide. He sighed and tugged at the ends of his hair. That plan was a lot of work.

The less obvious answer and the one that Peter's heart pounding thinking about was to say yes. It was such a simple word. Made up of three small letters and yet conveying so much meaning. Saying yes in this case wasn't just assenting to sitting at a lunch table. No, telling Ned yes was swinging the door open wide to their friendship. Peter was giving acknowledgement that he would be available, vulnerable, and present in the relationship. One that was someone outside of his family and that was scary. It was… too long since Peter had a friend. Someone other than May who was going to be there through thick and thin.

The phone went dark again but this time he didn't press any of the buttons. He let the light fade from his face and closed his eyes. His chest shuddered as air was trapped in his lungs. He could feel his ribs expanding and the pressure building until with a grunt he exhaled. Peter lifted his legs, feeling the strain in his lower stomach, and tucked the covers underneath him before turning over. He buried the side of his face into the corner of his pillow and stayed there, flipping from side-to-side, until sleep overtook him.

* * *

"Peter!"

Peter heard his name and ducked around the corner. The brick tugged lightly on the loose threads of his sweater but he stayed where he was.

"Pet - " He heard a wheezing noise from around the corner as footsteps echoed in the hall. "Peter."

Peter shrunk back into the wall as Ned rounded the corner. The boy in question stood there for a moment with his hands in his pockets, trying to catch his breath. Peter took the moment to observe him. Everything looked alright. Ned wasn't avoiding eye contact and his face wasn't pinched with anger. A knot in his chest loosened a bit with this knowledge.

Lunch had came and went with Peter avoiding the cafeteria and library. In reality he couldn't decide where to go and walked around the loop of the school. He was absolutely not hiding though. Thoughts of seeing Ned and then thoughts of avoiding him swirled around his mind and continued to make his stomach queasy.

"Dude, I'm glad I caught up with you. We missed you at lunch." He looked up searching Peter's face and Peter quickly glanced away.

"I'm sorry." He said with a low voice. His fingers played with the hem of his sweater. "I was working on some homework."

"Don't worry about it, but we will save you a seat tomorrow. We can meet up in C-hall if that's easier."

The words were spoken lightly but Peter slowly lifted his head to look up. Ned's face, like always, was open and earnest, but there was something changed in his expression right then. There was a steel to his eyes. A slight narrowing that sent Peter's eyes wide. He could tell that Ned wasn't really asking this time.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll be there."

The expression was gone before he blinked. For a moment Peter thought he made it up. That his eyes were mistaken, but the churning said something different. Ned smiled and started talking about the latest D and D booklet he got over the weekend. Peter nodded and asked questions about it but his heart wasn't in it. Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore Ned started waving and walked to class.

Ned wasn't going to take no for an answer and Peter wasn't sure how he felt about it. A blush rose from his chest to neck at the thought, but he could feel some of the headache of indecision that had been plaguing him all week go away.

Truth be told it was probably for the best. Peter always tried to be honest with himself and self-reflect. He knew there was no way he would have accepted Ned's offer. It wasn't that he didn't want to. It was just everything Peter couldn't do. He couldn't imagine himself sitting there at lunch, laughing and chatting with the people at school. In middle school he sat at the end of a sparsely populated table and read a book. He avoided eye contact whenever possible and never held a conversation with the people at the other end of the table so this was something he'd never done before. It was only in Peter's dreams that an offer was made, let alone real life.

And though his stomach was still raw and his hands sweaty, Peter was grateful to Ned. The boy knew how Peter worked and how to work with it. He hadn't been mean or rude, he just evolved his question to a statement. Which was the key. If there was no question. If there was nothing for him to decide or worry about, everything was already that much easier. Now, Peter hoped he wouldn't embarrass Ned in front of everyone.

* * *

Peter shifted back onto the balls of his feet, readying to walk away. There was still time. He could call in sick or, better yet, get detention somehow for the lunch period. It would be easy. Well, easier than facing the cafeteria. The memory of Ned's expression stopped him. It was painted with hope and an honest want for Peter to join him that it stopped Peter from outright walking away. He took a step forward and then another… before swiveling around so the closed door wouldn't mock him.

Ned expected him to be there. He said he would be there but Peter couldn't make himself move. He turned around again and then leaned against the lockers. How was he supposed to act when it was difficult enough trying to keep up in a conversation with one other person. Peter's hair twisted around his fingers and he knew his face looked like a tomato. He was such a freak. Why was something like this so hard? Why did it feel like he was going into battle instead of eating a sandwich? If only he… A hand clamped down around his shoulder and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the locker.

"Peter, sorry, dude. I thought you knew I was there. I said your name like two times"

He tried to smile but the muscles in his cheeks rebelled. He looked up under his lashes and saw another Star Wars shirt. Ned smiled but his eyes were narrowed. Peter mumbled something about being fine. He wasn't sure Ned believed him but he squeezed Peter's shoulder again and nodded.

"Alright, want go into lunch? I'm starving."

Peter swallowed but a lump blocked his throat. He looked up and down the hall before concentrating on the hand still resting on his shoulder. It was warm and heavy. Not restricting his movements but a reminder that Ned was with him. He nodded and the two walked forward. This time Peter felt less like he was going to the gallows.

The pulled the doors open and looked in. Peter forget how loud lunchrooms were. People talked over each other. They yelled to others across the room and switched tables depending on who had the best lunch. It reminded him of the markets him and Ben used meander through on Saturday mornings.

Ned cleared his throat and Peter realized they stopped. He could see Ned's face from the corner of his eye and the boy cleared his throat again.

"It's okay," He said. "If it's too much we can just…" He stopped and shrugged.

Shame welled hot and strong in Peter. The invasion in his eyes began again. Peter blinked back the pricks and coughed. Ned was giving him this hopeful look. His shoulders are still raised upwards but his head tipped crooked to the side, watching Peter.

"It's okay. Let's do this." Peter noted how wobbly his voice sounded to his own ears and wondered if Ned could hear it too.

"Let's." Ned repeated. He stepped in front of Peter and led the way keeping to the outskirts of the room. They wound through the people waiting in the food lines and stopped at a table along the back wall of the cafeteria. Ned sat down at one end and then scooted down so Peter could sit on his far side.

"Hey guys. This is Peter." He climbed over the bench to sit down and waved quickly. There were five people already at the table. Brian, Mike, Midge, and Jaimik sat huddled together. The small group had papers spread out on the table between them and they were debating something about the biology homework. Now and then Ned chimed in to add something but they mostly kept to themselves. Peter couldn't help but notice another girl, Ned said her name was MJ, sitting at the end by herself.

Ned occasionally muttered a side comment to him about what Midge or Brian were saying but otherwise the two sat quietly, listening. Peter glanced up from under his eyelashes at MJ. She sat with a book in front of her, separated from the group. She didn't talk to anyone and kept her head down. From Peter's view, looking over everyone at the table, it reminded him of what he would do in middle school. In fact, that was what he longed to be doing at the moment. Forget the world and read.

Ned asked Peter a question and he blushed when caught staring. He managed to get caught up in the debate and him and Midge explained their thoughts to Brian who was still adamant about Hydrogen was the best element. His hands never unclenched though and they were sore and sweaty by the end of the hour. It was nice, normal. Peter felt himself keenly throughout, held his back rigid, and thought before he spoke, but he endured. He endured and found that he didn't embarrass Ned. He could feel the drain from having spoken to everyone but there was no regret lodged in his chest.

The bell would ring any moment and Ned leaned over to bump shoulders with him.

"Alright?" he said and Peter nodded shortly. The others looked up when Ned stood up. Peter noticed even the girl reading the book looked up briefly.

"See you tomorrow guys. We need to go check something for English." Everyone waved and Peter stared at the ground at he followed Ned out.

They got to the hall and stopped where Peter and Ned stood only thirty minutes before. They stood shoulder to shoulder, backs resting on the lockers. Peter continued to stare at the tips of his shoes.

"Thank you." Ned said quietly. It lacked the normal exuberance he had and Peter looked up to see a small smile on his face. He nodded and felt a smile rise up in return. Something warmed in his chest and Peter rubbed his fingers on his sternum to quell it.

Ned was still there standing next to him. Ned was thanking him! He'd been so worried, so consumed with the possibility that he would do or say something that would be Ned's tipping point. He knew from experience that he wasn't worried for no reason.

Sam Carlson was the example Peter went by. They found each other their first month of sixth grade. Peter was at a new school and didn't know anyone yet. Instead of going to the lunch room he went to the library to read. She was also in the library that day and came up to him. They tentatively they started talking. Over the next month She would find Peter around the school and over time Peter started finding her. Their friendship was in its early stages but Peter remembered being so young and full of hope that someone wanted to be his friend.

Peter finally decided to brave the lunch room knowing that Sam ate their most days. He came up to the table and saw her sitting with a group of people. She looked up from across the table and smiled at him. The others turned their heads to see him there. Peter shifted back and forth, waiting to be asked to sit down or something. He saw Sam's mouth open but then a different boy spoke out, ridiculing Peter's glasses. Peter's eyes widened and red stained his cheeks. He looked over at Sam as others joined in, their words morphing into laughter as he continued to stand there. Sam looked away from him and shut her mouth.

Standing there with Ned, Peter remembered the utter terror that seized him when someone asked her what his deal was. He could remember the silence and how hard he gazed at her, pleading with his eyes for her to just look at him. He could take the taunts all day if she was still his friend, but she never looked up. Her eyes stayed down and she spoke the words he would never forget.

"Yeah, he's a real freak."

He ran, tears blurring down his cheeks and neck through the halls until he got to the bathroom. There he stayed until May came and found him.

Ned bumped his shoulder again and Peter shook his head trying to dislodge the thoughts of his middle school time. Nothing liked that happened today. It turned out fine. He was fine.

"So…" Peter looked back at Ned and blushed when he realized he'd been thinking for too long. "I was thinking that tomorrow we could just eat in the classroom again. Jaimik and Brian said they were going to be bringing their D and D booklets to school to go over for a tournament they're in and I do not want to get in the middle of whatever may happen. That okay with you?"

The tension in his chest drained some and his shoulders stooped down as he exhaled.

"Yeah, yeah. That sounds good."

It sounded more than good to Peter. As much as he was happy that today went well, as much as it felt nice sitting there, he didn't think he could do it again. Ned raised his arm and Peter flinched back, blushing. The boy lowered his arm around Peter's shoulders and squeezed them together. They smiled at each other and the warm feeling returned in his chest. Peter honestly didn't want to go into the jungle that was the lunch room. Maybe another time this week he would, but not tomorrow.

* * *

Thank you all for the support.

Leave me a review of what you think, please!


	9. Progress

Hi friends. Happy New Year! I'm wishing you health and happiness in the year to come. Thank you for all the support! I can't say how much it means to me.

* * *

The motion of the sliding doors caught Peter's eye and he looked up in time to see Julia entering the lab. A toothy smile came over her face and with a small blush she waved when she saw him. He managed to smile back.

It was just over two months of the internship gone and their work was steadily progressing. Peter was never fond of the intricacies of group work and was especially hyper sensitive to the forming of them in this one. He didn't want to do anything that would cause the group to collapse or, more likely, implode.

Frank and Monica were the natural leaders of the group and, for the most part, got along with each other. There was this underlying tension between the two that had Peter carefully managing his interactions. When they first were assigned together it was difficult to move forward because they were both trying to prove themselves to the group and then to themselves.

They spent hours brainstorming their ideas. He thought it was a done deal and that they could begin researching immediately but unfortunately, they had other ideas. Both came in with huge presentations. Him and Julia were stuck in the middle of their debates for which direction they should go forward. It would have been funny if Peter wasn't so scared of their group falling behind and getting in trouble.

Peter couldn't bring himself to choose and saw the benefits of both choices. He remained firmly neutral and it was Julia, cheeks a deep red, that came up with a plan. It leaned more toward Monica's overall but combined aspects of Franks into it. Neither party was particularly happy but Julia quietly guided their group together.

Peter thought it was odd how it came to pass. He connected with her because they were both quiet. Both seemingly the followers, the enactors of their group. But it was through this circumstance Julia showed her true cards.

It wasn't unnatural but something Peter simply wasn't used to. He knew of leaders like Uncle Ben who vocalized their role and authority. People respected his uncle because of the honor he bestowed to his code and to the people around him. Ned was the same way. Peter watched as Ned spoke to the people at the lunch table the few times he went back. The others looked to Ned on what he thought. Midge and Brian were always arguing about something and when the point needed examining, they sought Ned to do it.

Julia was completely different. Instead of outright leading she guided their group through the members. The situation with Monica and Frank was the perfect example.

He saw her talking to Frank after the presentation battle. She handed him her notes and began asking him questions about why he chose aerobic digestion for their topic and what he still needed to research. Peter assumed they sat there after he left, engrossed in the benefits and negatives of each segment. Later in the week they met again and Frank presented a bunch of new ideas on how they could incorporate his idea into Monica's. Frank didn't say anything about the talk he had with Julia and the girl was equally as silent. Peter did see a small smile play across her face when Monica assented to the whole thing and their team began planning again.

There were also little things she did to smooth of the wrinkles. Small questions she asked or new material she would bring that would shed light on a constraint or help them broaden their research. Without all of her inputs, their project would be in a completely different place and she did it all without being the 'leader' of the group. Peter wasn't even sure if the two others knew what was happening.

Julia was also the one who he had the most interaction with. Frank worked on different hours than all of them. Although Peter technically worked with Monica the most, they rarely talked and never about anything else. It was Julia who he felt connected to, which was normally something Peter didn't feel so easily.

She slowly integrated herself in Peter's work time. On the always arrived at the Tower first because her school was farther away than Midtown. The first of which Peter was already knees deep in paper at his little table by the window. She told him afterwards she'd been trying to gain his attention for a while and on receiving no answer decided to give up. She sat down and began working herself.

Peter came out of his trance and realized the sky was dark. He stretched and looked down at the desk. There piled on top of the papers was a head of hair. His breath stole away as he realized she must have fallen asleep sometime during her work. Uncertainty coiled in his stomach. Should he wake her or let her rest? He checked the time and saw how late it was. He had to get home so wake her it was. Gently he lifted his hand up and, after hesitating, set it on her shoulder, giving one firm nudge before snatching his hand back. She didn't move and Peter repeated the action again but this time he whispered her name.

She groaned and lifted her head, revealing a line imprinted into the side of her face. A notebook lay innocently on the desk where her head had rested on. Peter broke out in a smile.

"Peter?" She asked, her voice foggy with the remnants of sleep.

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if I should wake you but I didn't want to leave you here."

She yawned and started gathering the papers.

"It's alright. Thanks for waking me." Julia smiled and Peter stared as she went back to organizing. They didn't talk on the way out. Just wandered down the down the streets until they got to the subway. Her stop was after his but he rode next to her until her spot. It was quiet between them. Not uncomfortable or anything but easy, relaxing.

Hesitantly she began talking about her family after Peter forced himself to ask. They'd just introduced three new members into their family. A small baby named Alex and two fluffy cats. One was named BOGO, short for Buy One Get One, and the other was Free as they were having a sale on the cats at the pound.

The doors closed behind her and Peter continued sitting. Her small hand waved beyond the glass and then she was out of sight. After taking another subway back some stops he got to his exit.

He remembered eating dinner alone that night. May was at work and while his food cooled untouched he thought of the way she let him borrow the notes and her hand, eclipsed by the large jacket sleeves, waving from the platform.

From there on out it was little things like that. Julia would always come over and sit with him at the table. She started bringing in snacks and always had enough for both of them. Sometimes they would talk and other times not. It was little things that had Peter relaxing around her and soon he felt a burst of warmth when she sat across from him.

Today she came straight to their table and Peter began moving his papers to his half of the table.

"Hey, Peter. What's up?"

"I think I've got what we need." He bounced up on his seat and tucked his legs underneath.

"Really?"

"Yeah! I found out that Oscorp has a prototype of the equipment that would work great. Of course, it would need minor readjustments and actually we just could build it ourselves but we would have to see the prototype and then figure out from there. It might be too much time. And, uh, we'll just have to see." He laughed awkwardly and brought his hand up to the back of his neck. Julia sat with a smile crooked smile on her face.

"That sounds great, Peter. Can I see your notes and over the weekend I can email them to Frank and Monica? See what they think?"

The papers were sitting in front of her before she was done talking. She nodded and gathered them into their folder.

They worked into the early evening. The elevators chimed and Friday's voice carried over the sound system.

"Good Evening Peter and Julia. You are required in lab two." Julia raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you, Friday."

"What was that _the_ Friday?" She whispered. He grinned bringing his eyes up in sympathy to Friday. On one of their many talks to lab two Peter discovered Friday was quite the celebrity around the Tower. Friday told him that some of the younger workers would try to get Friday to speak out loud. He laughed out loud when Friday relayed how one person would walk around empty rooms knocking on walls and whispering to the ceiling.

"I've been helping out on another project after this one. Will you - are you alright going home?"

Julia tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about me. Thank you again and I'll make sure everyone has that stuff."

"Thank you. Have a nice weekend. I'll see you next week?"

"Yeah. See you, Peter."

His fingers brushed against the seam if his pants and reminded himself to text her later that night to make sure she got home safe. He decided to take the stairs and Friday chatted with him on the way up.

"Boss has an update in the coming month so I will be offline for the day." She said.

Peter worried his lip.

"Will you be okay?"

"I will be fine, Peter. It is protocol, but thank you for the concern."

He frowned at the thought of Friday being… tampered with. The stairwell was chilly and he pulled the sleeves down around his hands.

"Peter." His head whipped around and he saw Mr. Stark walking toward him. Mr. Stark walked coolly down the hall, a spring in his step. Peter could image the people in the rooms he was passing by. They would all turn their heads, crowding around the windows just to catch a glimpse of the boss.

He set his hand on Peter's shoulder and Peter was proud when he didn't flinch back.

"Hey Mr. Stark. How's it, um, going?"

"Good, good." Mr. Stark looked down and Peter flushed at the searching gaze. "Shall we?"

He began heading into the lab when he realized Mr. Stark was walking back down the hallway. Peter scrambled to catch up and filed in line next to the man. On observation Peter was surprised to find his earlier thoughts were correct. As they walked down the hallway people were looking out of their offices. Some looked put out Peter was walking, now blocking their view of Mr. Stark and others quickly looked away when they were caught staring.

Peter wanted to ask where they were going and why they weren't going to the lab, but the people in the rooms lining the hallway kept distracting his question. He slid his eyes to the other side to observe Mr. Stark. The man was… unperturbed. There was nothing in his body language to give away he was feeling uncomfortable. He walked, well, it was like everyone in the world was watching him or no one was and he was free. Eyes forward, hands relaxed at his side, and the barest of sways with each stride. There was confidence there and acknowledgement of something, maybe power.

"Mr. Stark…is this normal?"

The man looked down at him for a moment and then looked to the side. This turned out to be the wrong thing to do because it sent some of the workers into a tizzy. A giggle bubbled out of his stomach and soon he was fully laughing at the image. Mr. Stark was cracking a smile at their antics.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Stark but did you see that guy? You gave him the side eye and he spit the coffee everywhere." His hands braced on his legs right above his knees as he took deep breaths.

He looked up to see the smile gone from his face. The man looked in deep thought and Peter's stomach clenched. Was this a taboo topic? Was he friends with the guy in the room?

"I shouldn't laugh. I'm sorry. I…"

Mr. Stark raised his hand and Peter fell silent. He shifted back and forth, and his hands began to sweat. The elevator chimed and they exited into a living space area. Well, a living room if you were mega-rich, which Peter knew Mr. Stark was.

There were fancy glass tables and bookshelves with only really large books in them. The whole far wall was a window and the skyline view was better than the one at his table.

"This is beautiful." He said wandering closer to the window. He could feel Mr. Stark following him and the two stood, staring out. "Wow, Mr. Stark. This view. I feel like I'm seeing the whole world."

Peter could feel eyes on him but he couldn't worry. For the moment the way the sun's rays were caught by the buildings and then distributed out over the city was all he could see. Fire rose in the normally grey cityscape and ignited the world like a painting. His breath caught at the sight. The gaze left him as Mr. Stark looked back out.

"It is." He said. The man sighed and poured himself a drink, fixing Peter a water. They sat down in the living room. Mr. Stark made sure their seats were facing the window. Peter sat on the edge of it. The crisp material was too new under him and he wanted to limit how much he touched.

"It's always like that and, to be honest, I haven't even noticed it recently. Not until we walked down that hallway." He sighed and ran his hand thought his hair. Peter wasn't sure Mr. Stark was actually talking to him. The man almost seemed like he forgot Peter was there. He could smell the alcohol from his spot and worried the inside of his check about it although he wasn't sure why.

"It was funny with the coffee, wasn't it?" He said and Peter nodded, clasping his hands tight. Mr. Stark finally looked up and saw Peter. He must have looked a hundred kinds of pathetic because the man got up. Peter couldn't see but he heard the sink running and then some tinkering.

Mr. Stark came back with a snack for them and another water.

"It's been a week." He said and Peter, feeling like a bobble head nodded again. "You know I haven't even noticed the view until just now too. But you're right, it's like we're looking at the whole world."

Mr. Stark stared out again and then clapped his hands, making Peter jolt back.

"Alright. I really wanted to check up and…"

* * *

The air was cool despite spring ending soon. The cool wicked against his overheated skin and Peter breathed out for what felt like the first time that day. He could honestly say he wasn't sure what just happened.

The plans were originally to work in the lab. The prototype was almost done and time before the school year was short, but they hadn't talked about the work at all.

Instead Mr. Stark was… weird. And then he wasn't.

At first there was such a poignant melancholy draped around him. It was unlike the Mr. Stark he'd worked with so far. The way he stared out that window. Peter couldn't tell if he was seeing it for the first time or saying goodbye. Then he snapped back to normal.

Peter was left unsure of their words or his responses.

They' talked about normal stuff. Well, what seemed normal. Mr. Stark asked about school and Peter hesitantly dived into English class. He wasn't sure with Mr. Stark being a science guy if he would be interested in literature and Peter had seen the state of those bookshelves. To his surprise the man easily conversed about the newest section of Pride and Prejudice they were reading. They discussed the importance of letters as a form of communication in the novel and Peter found himself debating whether Caroline was really coldhearted in the end. It was pleasant to get his mind off of everything. To talk about nothing for a while.

But his maudlin expression and the smell of alcohol stopped Peter in his tracks. Mr. Stark got rid of the alcohol. Peter was sure he saw the uncomfortable look on his face and without making a big deal, without saying anything, he got up and dumped it out. His heart clenched. Maybe he should have said something to make him feel better, if he was feeling ill at all.

His phone buzzed and Peter flipped it open. He smiled at the background. Before he left he took a photo of the skyline and sunset. It really was beautiful. A text came in and Mr. Stark's name appeared. He opened it and felt a warm feeling in his belly settle.

Peter, text me when you get home safe. Next time I'm not taking no for an answer to driving you home.

He shut the phone and leaned his head back. He wasn't certain why Mr. Stark was asking about him, but for the moment he didn't care. With a smile on his face he flipped the phone open once more to see his new background and to read the text one more time.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who is involved with this story. You all make it so much more special.

I just wanted to say that I will not abandon this story without warning. I am excited to continue writing for it! This is another filler-ish chapter but it is important for the rest of the story. Thank you again.

I love hearing what you guys have to say! Let me know what you think, please!


	10. Fast-forward

Beginning of February

"I think we might be able to start the full-scale model soon."

Peter looked up from his phone, which he was reading his notes he doodled in class off of. Mr. Stark offered multiple times to get him a new phone but he preferred the simplicity of this. When he told Mr. Stark it was easier to use the man acted all offended under his smile. Teasing Peter about his inability to figure out a simple phone when they were working on building a full-scale code and model of tech for cars. It was also easier to understand his thoughts written down. While they didn't look particularly neat on the page it made more sense to him. Mr. Stark seemed to understand that.

He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging wide open.

"Really?" He said, dropping his eyes back down ignoring the sinking feel in his chest.

Mr. Stark chuckled and went back to scanning the algorithms.

"We can get a full team in here to work on it. Whatever we need."

A whole team? Someone to take over what they were doing? Peter flinched.

Their work had come so far. From car models went from mere imaginations, to metal models, and back to hologram full scale models. Their protocol were written in C++ after debating between the Python coding.

Peter found the time… soothing to his mind. Sometimes coming in late at night to work by himself even if Mr. Stark wasn't there. Friday always let him in with a kind word.

He remembered the first couple of times they worked together Mr. Stark would get into a kind of trance, rock music blaring in the background. While Peter liked the music – he made his own playlist to all the songs they listened to – his head rang after an hour or so.

His expression must have revealed more than he wanted to because without comment the next time Peter arrived the music was quieter.

It was little things like that and the temperature which had Peter settling into their work focusing more on Mr. Stark and less on Tony Stark.

With summer coming up in less months than he thought Peter was sure their time would be cut short.

What he wanted to do was ask the man himself. To beg him to continue working through the summer and next year and the next even if it meant bringing in fifty other people to work on it. He wanted to finish their project, to see their models turn into something real. Something that could help people. The selfish part of his brain suggested that what he really wanted was to continue working with Mr. Stark even if it didn't end up helping anyone.

Instead what Peter did was stay silent and hum slightly to the music nothing about his appearance gave his thoughts away besides the fists he made every so often looking at Mr. Stark working.

Would he even want to continue working with Peter?

* * *

End of February

Julia sat next time him while the subway rumbled forward. He kept his legs folded in front of him, fingers grasping backpack which rested on his knees in order to take up less space.

They already passed his stop but he stayed on like he always did riding with Julia.

"Do you really think the permission will go through?" She asked quietly. Julia had fidgeted today in the lab. Her eyes scanned the paperwork over and over making sure they filled out every form correctly. Their whole team practically had their proposal memorized with the amount of times they'd reworked it.

"I'm sure they will." He said but continued when her expression didn't change. "It was really good, Julia. You did a great job."

Peter stared at the glass window on the other side of the subway. Their reflections looked back and he saw her head duck down.

The subway came to a stop and she stood to leave. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at him.

"Thanks for riding the rest of the way with me. Text me when you get home?" Her tone was quiet and it was Peter's turn to drop his head. "You're a great friend, Peter."

He mumbled something and she smiled over her shoulder walking onto the platform. The doors closed behind her but he didn't lift his head.

Peter switched trains but couldn't stop the smile from coming over his face.

She thought they were friends.

* * *

Beginning of March

"Kid… Peter?"

He blinked. Mr. Stark's hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under the sudden intrusion but Mr. Stark's eyes never left his face. Slowly, he squeezed, calming Peter's pulse, and stepped back.

Mr. Stark ran his hand through his hair.

"Time for food." He said and waited for Peter to put all his notes away.

"I can just go home, Mr. Stark. It's no problem."

The man chuckled and Peter flushed knowing he said that every time.

"I already ordered your favorite from that Korean place down the street."

Peter stopped walking before hurrying to catch up. They settled around the table piled with way more boxes of food they could ever finish. Sure enough a container of Bibimbap with all tofu, no eggs, and spicy sauce was waiting for him.

Mr. Stark began telling him some gossip he'd heard around the office.

"And how do you know about poor Mr. Singer?" He said, scrapping the crispy rice off of the bottom of the takeout box.

The man didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when he spoke. "Oh, I just happened to be walking by when his wife came storming in."

Peter snorted. "Friday told you. Didn't you, Friday?" He asked over Mr. Stark's copious denials.

"That is correct, Peter." He smiled upward at Friday and failed to notice the soft look Mr. Stark was giving him.

"You caught me, kid."

* * *

End of March

It would have been easier to accept if the letters were stamped permanently in red across the whole paper. It would have made since in a way – been final. Instead they received a formal reply. One with fancy wording and apologies that had the vague pretense of sounding sincere and apologetic.

This made the news so much worse.

Their proposal had been rejected or as the letter said: "at this time we are not allowing student groups access to our facilities."

Julia's face crumpled while Frank swore. Monica began typing frantically but through it all Peter just sat there.

What would they do now?

* * *

Beginning of April

"You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still a lot of good in the world."

They were watching The Outsiders while he waited. Peter had read it the year before in English but had missed the movie day because he had been sick.

The rain pelted down against the glass windows. Thunder and lightning battled in the sky only an arm's length away from where they sat. He'd watched many storms pass through from his fire escape but here, this high up, Peter felt like he was inside it. Every clap of noise sent a pulse into his bloodstream pumping the blood through his veins. It didn't key him up like it did in the apartment. The sounds were loud enough to sooth his racing thoughts enough so he could focus on the movie playing in the background and the soft sounds of response Mr. Stark was making to the movie. He felt safe there in the storm.

Of course, Peter had put up a mild protest. He'd been fine to go home, he told Mr. Stark. But the man took one look outside and suggested the movie. Food was involved, too.

It took Peter exactly thirty-two seconds to decide he could wait for the rain to pass.

An hour later, laden with stir-fry and popcorn Peter was boneless on the couch. He smiled as Mr. Stark leaned forward, his eyes focused on the screen. It was the man's first time watching it as well and though Peter knew the ending, it didn't stop his enjoyment.

He yawned and sank deeper into the cushions.

The day had seemed unending and filled with busywork assignments. Things that weren't teaching him anything but would take all night to do. Ned was gone so he spent all lunch listening to Mike debate the pros of anarchy with everyone at the table. He stared at MJ until she caught him and he ran away to the library. It wasn't until he got to the lab that he had a moment to breath.

Something touched his shoulder and then with more force he was pulled away from the couch.

The sound of the credits rolled. He didn't realize his eyes had shut.

Peter could hear Mr. Stark's voice whispering something and a feminine answer but his eyes stayed closed, blessedly on the brink of sleep.

His head was against a hard surface, a chest, and Peter was lulled deeper by the heartbeat within. A hand brushed back his hair after he was placed on something soft and he could swear the voice said something important but Peter was too asleep to make sense of it.

B

Ned leaned across the lunch table. His hands bordered their lunchboxes in a protective frame as Peter relayed the news from his meeting the previous week.

"I just feel so bad for those Frank and Monica. I mean they're graduating and everything. This was their final hurrah." He said, nibbling on a carrot.

"Dude, that sucks. What are you going to do?"

Peter nodded at the question. As it was they weren't sure.

The prototype of the machine was necessary for them to see before they could come up with a model for themselves. He had thought about going to Mr. Stark and asking him for advice, but he decided not to in the end. It was an unfair advantage that the other teams couldn't use. If no one else could go to the owner of Stark Industries for help, why should he?

Peter was also proud of the work they accomplished so far. Sometimes he forgot how young they all were, given the amount and quality of work they completed.

The whole experience had changed him more than that though and he was loathe to sit there and do nothing.

"I don't know, Ned. We'll figure something out though."

He could only hope.

B

"Look, Peter. Mr. Stark will understand if you can't make it today." May spoke with an edge to her voice. "I forbid you from going."

"May, I have to go. This is important."

"Peter, you're sick. It's okay."

He coughed into his elbow, sniffling and meagerly taking a tissue May was holding out to him with pouting lips.

Peter whispered something to her. Something he was too afraid to think but needed to say.

"What sweetheart?" She said and even though he was sick and had a fever May sat on the edge of his bed.

"It's just," he licked his chapped lips. "What if he finds someone else to help out?"

He thought of the team Mr. Stark mentioned before. Peter looked away from the piercing glance. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket wrapped around him.

"Peter, he would never do that. You know he wouldn't."

She said it with such conviction but his stomach sank. Did he know that?

May kept talking, running a reassuring thumb over his knuckles but Peter was too wrapped up in his thoughts. He went through cataloging every interaction and every word spoken between them.

Peter thought of the way Mr. Stark smiled when he came into the lab and how he would always check the temperature to make sure it was warm enough. The man practically bought the whole menu at a restaurant when Peter stayed for food and it was getting more common for him to stay after a work day. Sometimes they would watch a movie but most times he would just work on homework as Mr. Stark continued with business. But were those concrete signs? It certainly didn't mean he would abstain from finding a replacement if the work needed to be done. Peter sighed into his hoodie, wincing at the way his stomach was cramping.

It was with the image of Frank helping Mr. Stark in the lab that Peter made his decision.

He realized May had left when she popped her head back into the room.

"Stay home, Peter. Okay? I'm sorry I have to go to work."

His cough wracked his chest but he managed to tell her he loved her. She gave him one last searching look before she left for work.

After he heard the door shut with limbs groaning Peter got out of bed. He toggled back and forth as the blood ran to his head but with careful steps made it out of his room. His hand swept across the length of the highest cabinet and found the last packet of powdered vitamin C before mixing it in his water bottle.

There was sweat seeping into his sweatshirt and on his forehead by the time he made it to the subway platform and he shivered into it. His breath shuddered when he finally sank down into one of the empty seats, making sure to touch as little as possible. He kept his hoodie up and took small sips of the vitamin infused water, praying for an instant cure.

Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator but he didn't lift his head up to the lights like he normally would. They burned his eyes.

"Hey, Friday." He said rubbing his hand along his chest to stop a cough. Even to his own ears his voice sounded tired.

"Are you alright, Peter?" Friday said, softer than normal.

"I'm fine, just a cough."

Friday said nothing but the elevators opened.

The room was void of people and Peter sat down with a heavy breath. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him. Thankfully Friday must have forgotten to put the lights on so it was dark in the room.

Every minute he sat there, Peter shrunk down until his head came to rest on his arms. Wet coughs racked his chest and he shivered again. It was cold in the room but he didn't want to bother Friday. The curt tone he used earlier with Friday sent a guilty tendril tightening along his spine.

The doors swept open and bursting into the room with wide eyes was Mr. Stark. Peter tried to smile but from the furrow in the man's mouth, it wasn't as reassuring as he meant it to be.

"Kid, what's wrong? You okay?"

Peter sat up trying to relax the ache in his muscles. He flinched back when rough hands touched his cheek before moving to rest against his forehead.

He felt silly to realize Mr. Stark had moved across the room and was now kneeling beside him. Peter concentrated on the small lines forming lightly in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he imaged being younger and being sick at home, but instead of Ben kneeling in front of him it was Mr. Stark making sure he was okay.

With a shake of Peter's head Mr. Stark removed his hands and walked away. His voice rung out as he barked orders to Friday and then he was on the phone.

Peter gripped the edges of the counter, tears blurring in his eyes. How could he even think that? The betrayal of his thoughts sent a tear over the edge and down his hot cheek. Worse than that though was the longing he'd felt – still felt - when Mr. Stark looked at him with such concern.

It wasn't right. It wasn't his to want.

Mr. Stark came back and led Peter into the elevator. His tone was quiet, soothing, and Peter weakly followed him after brushing his tear away. Friday chimed in to give reports on his temperature. His brain felt fuzzy.

There was an arm, guiding him, warm across his back.

"Come on, Kid."

They arrived into a bedroom and dimly Peter realized this is where he fell asleep the previous month. He stopped short at the door.

"Peter?" The man spoke softly and the back of Peter's throat itched.

"But… we have the meeting. We were going to work on …" His brain failed him at the end.

"Hey, kid. You're in no position to be working. Hell, you're burning up."

He sent Peter to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

Peter sat at the very end of the mattress, his butt halfway off the edge. It wasn't his bedroom, just one for guests. There was nothing in there that was his, but Peter noticed that the lamp was where he moved it before when he tried to get some reading in the morning when was there.

He moved closer to the headboard, eyes on the light in the bathroom, and switched it on.

Peter could still convince Mr. Stark they could work today. It would be fine. Mr. Stark wouldn't have replaced him then as long as he remained useful.

"The work will still be there later." Mr. Stark said emerging from the bathroom as if he read Peter's thoughts. "Drink this while you take this." He gestured to the water and Tylenol in his hand.

Peter's protest died on his tongue and Mr. Stark spoke again.

"I'm not in any hurry to finish the project. As long as you get better."

He blanched at the implication of the words.

There was no anger in the man's face. Something uncurled in his chest when all he saw was concern. Ben used to wear that face well.

Peter's eyes dragged on his cheek. Another cough stormed through his chest.

"I'll go fill this up again. There's sweatpants and t-shirts in the dresser."

Peter stood up, feeling red on his cheeks. There were clothes there?

He browsed the drawers looking at the various t-shirts - all avengers themed. Quickly he got into sweatpants and sweatshirt glancing at the door back and forth.

With a speed he used when changing after gym class he shucked his shirt and pants off and into his chosen clothes, grey sweats and Stark Industries shirt. His hand brushed over the ironman one but he couldn't quite make himself put it in.

He settled on the bed again just before there was a knock on the door. Dizziness wavered through him and Peter grasped the bedside table for support.

Mr. Stark came in carrying the glass. The covers were pushed back and Peter found himself lying down. The man hovered for a moment, his hand came up from his side reaching out before dropping back.

"Get some rest, Kid. Friday will be here if you need anything and I will just be in the living room outside."

Peter's eyes closed of their own accord and he nodded. Footsteps swept across the room but before the door could close Peter thanked Mr. Stark, wishing he had the right to say more.

"Of course, Peter." Peter's throat went tight. The door shut and Peter spun around. He didn't want to look at the lights shining through the cracks in the door.

Of course, he said like he would look after Peter. As he would have if Peter's mind conjured up sound for his imagination. Like he cared.

The knot loosened in his throat and Peter locked the guilt away for a moment, instead basking in the knowing someone was waiting up in case he needed them right outside this room that wasn't technically his.

He reached up, adjusting the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

* * *

Middle of April

Peter's stomach protested as the smell of leftovers wafted from the lid he opened. The nausea from being sick still lingered and Peter found his appetite was suffering because of it.

The cafeteria, loud as ever, raged around him. He pushed the container of food away with a grimace.

Something nudged him from the side and he saw Ned's profile looking straight ahead. He shrugged and went back to staring at his lunch. Ned's elbow dug into his upper arm and Peter looked over while rubbing the spot of impact. Narrowly dodging another nudge, he got the hint and followed the boy's gaze.

Peter blinked at the figure coming forward.

Flash waded through the crowds and tables. His gaze was fixed forward and now that they weren't precisely enemies Peter let himself feel intrigued by how people just seemed to get out of Flash's way.

He wondered why Ned was so interested in Flash until the boy in questions eyes moved and landed on Peter.

He was making his way in their direction.

Peter knew from the previous eight months how rare this was and his stomach cramped in response. His eyes flounced back to the Tupperware.

"I wonder where he's off to," Ned said.

Peter watched Ned in his observations not wanting to be caught blatantly staring at Flash himself. Despite the itching feeling crawling through his limbs Peter smiled at his friend and the way he moved forward so Flash's view of Peter would be limited.

Under his lashes he looked up to see Flash continued the straight path to them. Peter held his breath and watched his legs, which seemed much safer than his face.

Flash continued forward until he was a table away. Peter finally looked up at a sound from Ned and met his eyes. The boy stared straight at him and Peter forced himself to maintain contact. Flash glanced toward the doors and back at Peter, his brow quirked when Peter's face remained in ignorance. He did it again before veering off toward the exit.

The doors closed behind him blocking Peter's curious gaze, food dilemma forgotten.

Should he follow?

Ned began talking about how weird Flash had been lately and Peter nodded along. His hands twisted in his lap, bouncing in time to the rise and fall of his foot against the ground.

Without breaking eye contact with the door, he stood up, murmuring something to Ned whose eyes flickered to the door. Ned nodded without missing a beat.

As Peter was passing toward the door he briefly reached out to touch Ned on the shoulder before hurrying away. Ned was such a good person…. A good friend.

Backpack slung over his shoulder Peter followed the path his eyes traced before and saw Flash leaning against the lockers down the hallway from the cafeteria.

"Flash. Hey." He said trying to keep the weary tone out of his voice. They'd seen each other off and on at their time at the Tower but hadn't seen much of each other at school. In fact, the last time they talked was when Peter had a meltdown in front of him, which was slightly awkward to realize how Peter yelled at him before. Not that he didn't deserve it.

The boy's arms were crossed in front of him. Peter could see his shoulder's tensing and he held his body still. Peter forced his hands to stop fidgeting by shoving them in his pockets. A blush worked its way onto his cheeks when neither of them spoke. Was he wrong? Was he supposed to follow Flash?

"So, I hear you need a connection at Oscorp?" Flash said uncrossing his arms and casually raising his eyebrow at Peter.

His jaw dropped. This was not what he expected.

"Uh… How did you hear that?" He said trying to find a semblance of rational thought.

Flash had the decency to look embarrassed but he answered anyway, if a little cautiously. "That Mike kid is loud as shit. Anyway, do you?"

"Why?"

Flash sighed and crossed his arms again.

"Listen, I'm trying to be... decent. My dad has connections there and I could see if something could come of it."

"Why?"

Was that all he could say?

"Is that all you can say?" Flash snapped.

Peter shut his mouth and thought about the options. He could lie. Say that they didn't need this. Then he wouldn't need to repay Flash for anything. But the image of Julia's clenched hands and the hours they spent working came to mind. And he decided he didn't care if he was put in Flash's debt or that he didn't know the motivations behind this act of supposed kindness.

Plus, Flash proved changed – sort of – mostly. If he wanted help, well, Peter wasn't going to say no.

"Yeah, Flash. We do need help, if you're willing to offer it."

They nodded at one another before walking down the hallway too close to be considered friends but too far away for anyone to perceive them as enemies.

B

"Sorry, Monica couldn't make it today but she said as long as we take notes it should be fine."

Flash stood shuffling on the balls of his feet in the doorway. Julia and Frank were clearing off a spot for him to sit at the table while Peter motioned him forward.

Frank clapped Flash on the back in greeting and welcomed him.

"Thanks man. This is going to be a great help."

When Flash sat down, moving his backpack to rest against the leg of the table, everyone stared at him. It was the first time after their sandwich fiasco that Peter had seen him look so embarrassed and out of place. He withheld a smile.

Flash got straight down to business, explain the security and how his father got them a tour and question time with the person in charge of the prototype. Julia's hand flew over the paper trying to write every word he spoke. Without breaking his speech Flash slight a typed-out sheet of all the information. Her hand shook slightly and thought she thanked him, Peter noticed she didn't look him in the eye.

The meeting passed quick and Peter was pleased with how much Flash got along with everyone. He and Frank spent a bunch of time talking about sports and the playoffs. After some cajoling he even got Julia to talk about their new kittens at home. In turn, Flash smiled as she told him how BOGO would steal all of Free's food.

Flash smiled at the story. A real, teeth-baring smile.

B

Peter was used to things happening slowly in his life.

It took him almost half a school year to decide to participate in the S.T.A.R.K competition. Days avoiding the sign in sheet until finally he took the plunge. Months after dreading nearly everything he settled into a routine. He was opening up to the people around him.

He thought back to how scary it was considering Ned's offer to sit with him at lunch. It was weeks until he was able to go more than once a week. He even went over to Ned's house over break.

But all these things took time and much thinking on Peter's part. He weighed the consequences of everything before stepping forward and rarely out of his comfort zone. That was safe. That was good.

Things happening quickly were never good in Peter's opinion. Ben's funeral came and went so fast. The whole thing sped up like someone was pressing fast-forward. Though he was careful and took his time letting Sam into his life; it took but a second for her to break his heart.

That's why when Flash sat at their lunch table at the end of the week, Peter's stomach turned sour. He knew to expect the worse. He foresaw the worst. But there was nothing he could do or say in the moment.

Ned, after a moment of scrutiny, looked between Flash and Peter, then stuck out his hand for the two of them to shake, forever reminding Peter how forgiving Ned was.

How many second chances had Ned given him?

Just like that Flash began to eat lunch with them sometimes. Not every day, but throughout the week he would stop by and join an argument between Mike and Midge before wandering off again. Somedays he would even find Peter in the library when the cafeteria was too much for him to get through.

Flash was quieter than Ned. He would hold himself still, aware of his space at any given time and there was still tension between them sometimes. But it was nice all the same.

Peter didn't find it so strange that Flash and him became friends so quick this time.

* * *

End of April

Peter looked around the lab. Scattered on the tables were scraps of paper, all smudged with crunched writing, and metal shavings discarded from the models they had built. His backpack was folded over itself on the floor by the door on top of which his jacket was crumpled.

Mr. Stark stood beside him and if Peter turned his shoulders slightly to the left he could see the slight furrow in his brow. How his hand would come up and rest under his chin while his finger traced his goatee every five minutes or so.

It was his thinking face, Peter knew.

Months of working together and Peter's steady heartbeat was proof he was relaxed. Content.

He didn't think about the fact this would all be ending come summer. And he absolutely ignored the itch in the back of his throat thinking about the possibility of never seeing Mr. Stark again.

"I'm still thinking we are going to totally have to overhaul the thrust mechanisms on this side, Mr. Stark. It's working now, but barely, and it could be so much better." He said breaking the silence.

Mr. Stark's eyebrows rose in response but he didn't say anything. His eyes stayed trained on the new schematics displayed in front of him. He grumbled something under his breath and Peter cracked a smile knowing he was right.

The lab settled under the silence again. Peter moved around to Mr. Stark's other side and grabbed a Stark pad off the table. Easily Mr. Stark stepped to the side to accommodate his reach and giving Peter enough room to work at the table.

B

Peter yawned as he opened the door to the apartment. He grabbed a box of Chex mix and sank into the couch. His phone vibrated again and shoving his hand into the box checked his messages. The group chat between everyone went off with a near consistency putting his flip phone into overdrive.

There had been time of the subway to look at it but he ended up falling asleep, waking only to find drool gathering on his sleeve where his head rested and to hear he missed one his stop.

Even though he was barely awake now, Peter considered the walk home beneficial. The moon hung in the middle of the sky decorated by a vague face and stars all around.

It let him think, at least.

His third handful came away as the rest, only the little breadsticks and the occasional rye chip. May must have eaten her way through the bag first. He set it aside feeling a cramping in his stomach. Maybe he was still sick.

He yawned again and sank further into the couch knowing he should go to bed, but his bones felt too brittle to get up.

Everything was coming to a head soon. Midterms, Mr. Stark and their work, and the tour were compounding at an exponential rate.

It was all amazing. Peter knew he was so lucky and at times thought he dreamed it all.

But it was sometimes too much.

He wasn't used to having so many people in his life or having to check his phone throughout the day to see who was texting him.

Who would have thought at the beginning of the year Ned and Flash would send each other memes? Or that Julia would come out and lead one of their group meetings?

Peter smiled remembering how Monica's jaw dropped when Julia, gently, corrected her on some of the analytics. Or how she gave everyone in their group, Flash included, a newer version of the pen that landed her in the internship program.

He felt so full of life, something he'd never thought possible for someone like him.

And right now, it hurt that all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the weekend. He wondered what would happen if he told them. If he just needed some time to disconnect for a bit.

He knew he couldn't do that though. They would be fine without him, they would move on and continue texting minus his phone number, and Peter wasn't ready to get rid of them so soon. They deserved someone who was normal, who could sit in the cafeteria for the whole week without feeling bone tired, or someone who could be fully present without worry about sneezing the wrong way.

Peter would get through it and soak everything up. Every laugh, and debate at lunch. Flash's and his new acquaintanceship. And especially any time Mr. Stark was willing to work together. He could push through it for now.

It would be fine.

He groaned against the couch pillow thinking about everything he had to do and after looking at the calendar on the way he realized something.

It was only a week until they would tour Oscorp.

* * *

It's always one step forward and two steps back for our Peter isn't it?

a/n: Hi sweet friends. I hope you are all doing well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. This semester has been crazy, as things get in real life. My classes have been moved online so I can finally start writing again which makes me so happy. I also just wanted to say thank you for continuing to read this story. Every comment and favorite make my week so bright.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.


	11. Welcome to Oscorp

Hi all! Hope you and your loved ones are all staying safe.

This chapter contains violence geared toward animals and a death (off screen) of an animal.

* * *

Monday

Peter took a deep breath before stepping into the elevator.

He had thought to bring a card or something more lavish like flowers maybe, but the realities of who Friday was came back to him along with a burst of blush. It would have to come down to his words alone, which was the reason his palms were sweating already.

The doors slid shut behind him. He cleared his throat before his customary greeting.

"Hi, Friday." He said, wincing at a bubble in his throat.

The elevator stayed silent and his stomach fell. Friday had every right to be upset. He'd practically blown them off when he was sick and ignored it in the following days he came to the Tower. Yesterday Peter had even taken the stairs up to the lab. Worse of all was he knew Friday deserved an apology and not ignorance.

They were friends after all.

He rubbed his palms against the seam of his jeans when the silent treatment continued and he took another breath.

"Friday, I wanted to apologize for my tone the other day." He said staring up at the lights because he always pictured Friday there for some reason. "It was rude and you deserve better than that."

He paused, waiting for a response but again none came. The doors opened but he stayed where he was for another moment.

"So anyway, I'm so sorry." He shuffled his feet back and forth and with a drooped head stepped out of the elevator. "Thank you for the ride."

Peter walked down the hallway cringing at how lame he must have sounded. He knew he should have written it down before or brought something to make it up to Friday.

Mr. Stark was already in the lab when he arrived. It was earlier in the day because his group cancelled saying they would take it easy this week to prepare questions and anything for the tour.

That meant Peter had more time in lab two.

He dropped his stuff down by the door. His backpack folded down in its familiar way and he laid his coat overtop of it.

This routine wasn't enough to stop him from feeling lopsided.

In his life, Peter had many experiences with apologies. What he didn't have an experience with as much is an apology to someone he cared about. Peter wielded his apologies like a tightly formed defensive mechanism. It was something he could say to defuse a situation quickly getting out of hand. It was a word, while being earnest, he could say to let the other person know he was listening but not quite expressing himself well. But apologies tangled with regret and hope was something he was less familiar with.

As he walked to the desk Peter thought of the ways Friday would greet him. Their tone of voice was steady and their banal chats would calm any lingering stress from school before he made it to the labs. Friday monitored him right along with Mr. Stark when he was sick. There had been a little email of his full health writeup in his inbox the next morning, complete with temperature updates on the hour. A small 'feel better' typed at the bottom of the email.

He swallowed the guilt down.

"What's up kid?" Mr. Stark said without looking up.

Peter took his seat to the right of Mr. Stark and pretended to read over his notes. His fingers strummed in no particular beat on the desk. He didn't notice Mr. Stark's head turned his way.

"Mr. Stark?" He said after a moment. When he looked up the man was already bent over the desk with eyes full of holograms.

"Hmm? What's up?"

Peter strummed his fingers again not daring to look up yet. He'd noticed Mr. Stark would do that now. Ask an open-ended question or hum before waiting for a response. It never failed to make Peter uncomfortable. Normally the people Peter interacted with would fill the stretched-out silence. Like some sort of sixth sense they could perceive the tension and would start to talk about anything they thought of. This was ideal for Peter.

But Mr. Stark didn't do that. The man seemed perfectly at ease in their shared quietness. He didn't notice when Peter fidgeted in his seat when ten minutes passed. Sometimes Mr. Stark would gently ask Peter again and sometimes he would let the silence ride out.

He wasn't sure which was worse to be honest.

And he was left disappointed time and again when he couldn't work up the courage to take the bait. The fear of answering a question he wasn't sure had a right answer was just too much.

The silence drew onward, crushing Peter after his latest failure to Friday.

He heard Mr. Stark sigh. It was so quiet he wasn't sure if it was real or imagined but heat bloomed across his cheeks and the palm resting on the desk left an imprint of condensation when he clenched them in his lap.

"You hungry, Peter?" Mr. Stark said after some time had passed.

"Um, it's okay, Mr. Stark. No worries."

Food was the last thing on his mind and now he was thinking about it his stomach had been off since he was sick, but Mr. Stark went ahead with the food.

"J.O.C.A.S.T.A. can you order some burritos for us? Four vegetarian, one tostada, and then two of their flans, please?"

A smooth voice responded over the speakers.

"Sure thing, Boss."

Peter's hands stilled at the voice. The one that was definitely not Friday.

"What… Where's Friday?" He said, gripping the edge of the table.

Mr. Stark turned his head to look at Peter, surprise evident in his widened eyes.

"Friday is just going through some updates, Kid." Peter grimaced. "It's standard protocol. We're making sure everything in Friday's hardware is up to date."

The breath left his chest and a laugh bubbled out of his chest thinking about how ridiculous he was. Mr. Stark turned further toward Peter and raised his eyebrows.

"I just… I was talking and..." Peter breathed in and burst out giggling again not even stopping when Mr. Stark's hand clapped on his shoulder.

When he could stop enough to explain what happened, it was the first time he'd ever heard Mr. Stark really laugh.

The next time Peter spoke to Friday was reading from a text message he sent to himself. There was no way he was going to chance it and mess up again.

Friday forgave him without hesitation. After telling Friday, "I missed you," he ran out of the elevator before slumping against the wall and smiling up to the ceiling.

* * *

Tuesday

Peter ran into the lab just in time. He braced his hands on his knees working to keep his breath even before entering the door. Making sure it sounded normal though all he wanted to do was suck all the oxygen up in the room.

Without looking up he set his backpack down, watching it fold against the wall and then put his coat over it. He expected to see Mr. Stark already working like he normally was.

Instead, lab two was empty.

Peter sat in his normal chair, notebooks lined on the desk, waiting for Mr. Stark. He scribbled out some new ideas and started on homework.

Lost in the midst of Shakespeare and the mischievous Puck, Peter failed to notice the darkening sky. With one last glance around the lab Peter packed up his stuff, lingering in the doorway. Friday wasn't sure where the man was either and his hesitation grew.

Should he wait or go?

"I'll let you know once he arrives, Peter." Friday said. "It's dusk now. You should go home."

He left a single piece of paper on the desk with wrinkled with a hasty message.

Peter sat, restless and denied of sleep on his fire escape, listening to the sounds of the city. It was past the witching hour when his phone lit up with a notification.

* * *

Wednesday

The end of the day brought the arrival of a resurgence of weariness in his bones. Careful to follow the bends in the path Peter made his way home. He stepped around a sunken pothole where the cement was torn up, scattered into the street, and began walking on a dirt path. The dirt was well-worn and he imagined, if he looked hard enough, there were small footsteps etched into the path from the children who would run and play there in the summer.

As he entered the small apartment the sounds of his aunt puttering around the kitchen flooded him along with the smells of her famous spaghetti.

"Hi May," he called from the entryway lining his shoes with the others in the hallway. She yelled back and Peter smiled when he heard a crash of dishes followed by gruntled rumbling from May.

The foreign feeling of his stomach growling led him into the kitchen. He hugged May and grabbed the bowls from the counters, setting them on the table. With their plates loaded, May began talking about work and with little prompting went on to bash her boss.

"And how was your week, sweetheart?" She asked, wiping a trail of sauce down her chin.

"Oh, you know… the usual." Peter twisted his own spool of noodles before answering.

"Okay." She said not giving up. "Give me one good thing that happened with Ned."

"I ate lunch with them the other day. Mike asked me what Harry Potter I thought was the best."

"Your answer?" she said already knowing.

"Book or movie?" They said together and Peter smiled at his aunt.

"What's one good thing that happened at the internship?"

This one he knew without thought.

"Frank lost a bet with Julia so now he has to wear pajamas to all our meetings, also his meetings with Lee, and not say anything." May giggled and proclaimed she had to get to know Julia.

"And what's one good thing that happened in the other project?"

"May..." he whined but all she did was repeat the question.

"I-" He thought about the warped memory. The one where Mr. Stark was checking his temperature. He thought about all the number of things he could say but he simply went with: "Mr. Stark told me good job last week" and left it at that ignoring the way the back of his throat seized up.

After dinner they sat on the couch watching reality TV. May was obsessed with the housewives and Peter was happy to cuddle next to her until he fell asleep.

The apartment felt like home for the first time in a while.

* * *

Thursday

Peter entered the lab, dropping his backpack in its spot. A sigh of relief escaped him before he could stifle it.

There was Mr. Stark sitting at the desk. Back from wherever he had been.

He was talking on the phone and hadn't noticed Peter's arrival. He stretched his legs under the table and tried not to eavesdrop.

"Jesus Rhodes… I couldn't stop hearing his voice if I tried. The man can literally not stop talking… Yeah, look I'm on it but I don't trust a single particle of oxygen around the guy."

He looked toward Peter who gave him a small wave and returned to his notes to continue giving the air of privacy.

"Look, I've got to go. No, it's not a lady. Yes, I won't promise not to look into Ross." Peter could hear yelling on the other end of the phone and smiled. Mr. Stark said goodbye and ended the conversation with a flick of the wrist.

Mr. Stark smiled at Peter, setting his phone down on the desk. Peter couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes or the shadowed lines tightening around his mouth.

"Hey, Kid. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I was early and all. Friday wasn't very talkative, not that I was either but I was out of school early and I didn't mean to listen in and …"

Mr. Stark chuckled. "It's alright, Kid. There's nothing to worry about."

They set to work but Peter couldn't help notice the tense set of his shoulders. A slab of copper hit the desk and Mr. Stark twisted toward him.

"Kid, I hate to do this. Really, I do. But," he ran a hand through his hair. "The call wasn't about nothing and I need to do some research for it. I know it's bad timing today and we have this time…" Now it was Peter's turn to reassure Mr. Stark.

"Ah, I get it. No worries I can just," he motioned to his backpack but Mr. Stark held up his hands.

"Stay here and work if you want. This lab is yours as much mine."

Peter swallowed as Mr. Stark left lab two. His commanding voice already resonating through the hallway as he talked into his phone. Peter's fingers were clenched shut and he hastily uncurled them under the table. A gnawing empty space hollowed out in his chest but with a quick shake of his head, making sure to file the name Ross away, Peter got back to work.

* * *

Friday

Peter stretched his arms over his head flattening his palms on the wall. They shook with the weakness that comes in the wake of sleep and a lazy yawn overcame him, urging him to go back to sleep.

Knowing that wasn't an option he opted to turn toward the window before his second alarm went off. His bed was at just the right angle he could see out past his fire escape and at the buildings across the way. While his window mate hardly opened the blinds, something he was grateful for, the small family above them hardly shut them. Peter could make out the plants growing up the balcony bars towards the sun. He unpeeled his hands from the wall and without moving more than he had to inched the window open. Their radio leeched into the room and Peter hummed along while he ran through the list of everything to do today.

There was English reading to be done- most likely on the subway to school. Right before lunch period they were set to leave school and take the subway to the groups meeting spot. May called ahead last night to let the school know he was leaving early. Mr. Washington practically invited Peter to take the week off if he needed it to work on the internship which had May laughing. Then they would go to Oscorp, the butterflies in his stomach flared up at the thought, and back to the Tower to work with Mr. Stark.

He groaned into the pillow. It would be a busy day and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Four alarms and twenty minutes later Peter was running with toast in hand to catch the subway. A copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ tucked under his arm.

He wasn't sure if his leg had stopped bouncing all day. He was certain that Mrs. Brzozowski's face was going to be stuck in an exasperated scowl if he were to remain in her class for a second longer.

With blessedly good timing, something rare for high school, lunch came before Peter knew it. Ned knew all about his fieldtrip so Peter made his way to the steps outside, scanning the students for Flash.

It wasn't strictly necessary for him to come along with their group, but Flash insisted. Peter secretly thought Flash wanted to skive out of the chemistry exam today. No one during the group meeting put any objections up and he had been the one to get them the passes so it was decided.

He leaned against one of the pillars outside of school. Peter wasn't sure how a pair of shoes could be so white but he'd heard some other freshman talking enviously about them earlier. Peter tapped his finger against his jeans before walking forward.

"Hey," he said pulling the straps on his backpack tighter.

"Parker, you ready?"

After the third time asking if Flash had the passes the boy shoved them into his hand.

"You keep track of them then, why don't you."

Peter thumbed through them, cataloging the different receipts and put them in his backpack for safekeeping.

He missed the look Flash sent over as his leg continued to bounce up and down and therefore was startled with he began talking about his own team's project. The subway provided a numbing white sound and Peter fell into the easy role of listener, giving small utterances and, when desperate enough to keep Flash talking, asking questions.

"We're in the final stage of editing now and the presentation's almost done but Olivia is still freaking out."

"Over what?" Peter asked.

"Hell, if I know. Wait until you see it, though. Our project is good." He said. At the beginning of the year without hesitation Peter would have thought it was an arrogant response. Maybe it still was but all Peter did was smile and feel a sliver of pride for them.

This continued in a similar vein as they walked up the stairs and onto the sidewalk. They weaved through the sidewalks, eager to get away from the crowds until Peter spotted Frank.

He tugged on Flash's sleeve and the two of them made their way over to his fortunately tall group member.

"What's up guys?" Frank's loud voice carried over the crowds. As they got closer Peter could make out Julia standing next to him. Monica met up with them farther down the street in front of a coffee shop.

Peter hung back, watching the mismatched group journey toward their destination. It was crowded, even for New York, and Frank took the lead. His height and the intimidating set of his browbone warded their path clear. He hid a smile with his sleeve when Frank, in mock deference, bowed to their group as they turned a corner.

The peace wouldn't last for long. Peter heard Monica and Frank debating about who should be the spokesperson for the tour. Each argued their own merits and Peter could see the beginnings of sparks flying out of their ears when Julia stepped away from where she had been talking to Flash and told them it was Monica's job because she was technically head of the group. She was also dressed the nicest out of all of them.

With an air of dignity, she pushed her chin up at Frank who didn't really seem to get why that mattered. Peter did think her maturity a little dashed when she stuck her tongue out at Frank when she thought no one was looking.

Peter looked down at his own pants, bordering too short and the sweatshirt he wore almost every day. Maybe he should have dressed better.

The last corner passed without incident and Peter's eyes were drawn to the skyscraper in front of them.

_Glass windows plunged up into the clouds looking like they continued on into the heavens_

If Peter once thought Stark Tower was an extension of heaven, gracing earth with its intricate and seamless structure, then this building in front of him was entirely the opposite. It was like a scorched earth; the hardened molten material of its core was penetrating into the sky. Its black panels tore through the clouds, forcing your eyes on it. Large, bold letters tinted with green glowed at the top, watching.

Oscorp.

He shivered.

"Peter?" Julia called from ahead. He hurried to catch up, each step bringing him under the shadow of the building. It was ironic, he thought, the steps would lead down to the entrance, not up.

Standing away from the line of people waiting, Peter bent down and grabbed the papers out of his backpack before handing them to Flash. Their group watched as he talked to the receptionist. He returned with badges labeled guest.

"We have to wait here for our guide and we're all set to go."

Flash began to point out various awards hanging around the lobby stopping when a bored looking woman came up to them.

"Team Stark?" She said raising her eyebrow at their group nickname. Monica nodded and stepped forward to shake the woman's hand.

"My name is Estee and I'm one of the junior research members here at Oscorp. Mr. Thompson was kind enough to orchestrate this for you today. I hear you're interested in the anaerobic turbine? We will go see that amount other facilities today. Follow me." She said this with an efficiency of someone always five minutes late. They looked at each other and then followed behind.

"And this is where we test all the equipment contracted out to NASA among other companies." She pointed to a large dome like room in the center of the building. The elevator they took was on the outer wall, but it was too difficult see out the dark glass.

"No way." Monica replied with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. "You came up with the nanotube trenches technique?"

"I didn't but, yes, Oscorp had a hand in it."

"Those copper filings between the trenches are used all the time now in their equipment and spacesuits."

They all looked at her and she shrugged murmuring something about being interested in space. Estee smiled for the first time since meeting her and they continued to talk about the different thermodynamic technologies utilized today. As they continued the tour Peter noticed her voice was quiet enough only Monica could hear.

"Aren't they cozy?" Flash said and Peter elbowed him.

Their model was next and they were all interested in the introduction of chemicals to up the rate of decomposition while still keeping the end product viable.

"This anaerobic design catches the methane produced which can be further used for heating and electrical generation." Estee told them and promised to send the analytics and design to them later.

Peter and Flash stayed behind to take a look at how the compost was loaded into the device. Flash drummed his fingers along the railing, complaining to Peter he had "already seen everything in this place" while Peter took notes. For the sixth time Flash glanced at his watch mumbling that now school was officially over he should duck out and go home. Peter didn't respond.

The back of his neck prickled and he heard Frank ask: "Hey, what's in there?"

They all looked over to see a restricted personal sign. She sighed, first making it clear how many times the question came up in tours and then explaining it was where they did confidential lab exercises usually not open to the public.

It was normal for a facility like this to have a space like that. Peter had seen one at the Tower but that didn't stop his curiously from being peaked. He wasn't the only one. They all looked at each other in agreement. Monica, in a rare display of deception, stepped closer to Estee.

"Do you get to work in there?" She asked Estee, her eyes trained on their tour guide.

"Yes, all personal above a certain security are encouraged to do their research there."

Monica stepped forward a hair into Estee's space and Peter watched as a wisp watercolor blush stole across both of their cheeks.

"That's so cool. I would - we would - love to see what you're working on. If that's possible."

Estee regarded them each then returned her eyes to their leader. There was doubt in the furrow between her eyes but after a moment – breaths held in their collective group – she motioned them forward.

Even Flash perked up as they walked toward the red signs. The door locks clicked open and they were in.

"Follow me." Estee instructed with Monica on her heels, followed by Frank. The rest of them tagging behind at a slower pace trying to take everything in.

"Have you ever been back here?" Peter asked Flash, eyes not moving from all the people.

"Nah, my dad would never let me back here. Look at that thing," he said pointing to something that looked like a laser. "It's dangerous and so cool."

His eyes hovered around its red tip imagining all the destruction it would do when glowing hot.

Someone on the lower level caught his attention.

There, in all the chaos of science, was Seymour. Flash and Julia stopped next to him where he halted and followed his gaze.

"Shit." Flash said when Seymour looked up from his computer.

He smiled at them slowly and Peter's stomach clenched thinking of how that same smile appeared when they saw each other at the internship finals. The phantom pain of a blow to his back tingled on his spine. Flash stood frowning next to him. Peter wondered if they were still friends.

"Who is that?" Julia whispered.

Spurred on by her comment, Flash tapped their arms and turned them the other way, aware Seymour had left his station to follow them.

Their group came to a reluctant halt at the sound of their names.

"Look who it is. Did you have to beg Daddy to get you in here Flash?"

The trio turned around to look at the intruder. His chest was pushed forward, Oscorp badge gleaming in the light. Flash smiled wide and like he'd been doing it forever relaxed into a confident stance, legs apart and arms to the side. Peter thought he saw a flare of uncertainty in his eyes but it was gone.

"Seymour," he said. "You work here man?"

Peter was suddenly aware of the thrumming in his veins. Without thinking his eyes went to Flash. His tone was friendly enough but there was something weary, maybe the way he stepped slightly forward in front of them, in the interaction. He'd never asked Flash what happened in the fallout over the winners of the internship only observing during his lunch days with Ned that Flash hadn't been so chummy with Seymour after. At the time it seemed like none of his business. Now it did. Sorry wouldn't help in this situation.

"What else would I be doing here? Touring?" He said heavy with sarcasm.

"Look, we've got to go."

Before Peter could breathe Seymour stepped into Flash's space. He wound an arm around his shoulder, staring at Peter the whole time.

From a stranger's perspective it would be easy to image an alternative perception of this whole encounter. Catching your schoolmates' eyes across the room before rushing over and greeting them with a smile. Simple.

"I insist on showing you guys around. After all, it's technically because of you I'm here. Right, Flash?"

Not so simple to get away though. Flash strained against the arm around his shoulder and stepped away. There was a tightening around Seymour's mouth but he said nothing.

"It was fair and square and you know that. I tried explaining that to you."

Seymour grimaced. They moved into an area less densely populated. No one from their group, not even Estee, was in sight.

"That's what you said anyway." Seymour ripped his badge from his jacket and swiped it. This time Peter held no curiosity about what was kept beyond the door. He stepped closer to Julia.

Their footsteps rang alone in the hallway, closed labs framing them in on either side.

"I'll think you'll like what's in here." Seymour said giving Peter a wink.

The door closed behind them, sinking them further away from their team. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the overwhelming sound of his heart.

On the wall across from them glowed a still image of a rabbit. Seymour must have turned on live footage because it started moving around the cage, nosing the hay and feed scattered about the cage.

Two arms reached into its space, the doors they emerged from snapping shut leaving no room to escape. The whirling mechanisms were open to see under a clear layer of protection, some type of pliant plastic Peter guessed. The rabbit stopped, nose twitching as it watched the arms move in closer. With a snap, the arms seized the rabbit up, holding it in place despite the thrashing and scared noises playing over the audio in the room.

Peter saw Flash take a step back out of the corner of his eye.

The camera filming moved to zoom in on the other side of the animal. Peter's face paled. The new angle revealed an open wound on its side. Dried patches of brown and glistening red covered the fur and hind foot. He could see the patches of it staining the bottom of the cage and moved to look at his feet. For a moment, Peter swore similar patches were in the concrete where he was standing.

"Watch this," Seymour said without taking his eyes off the projection.

Another arm entered the frame carrying a small clear vial. The rabbit twitched uttering another squeal when the arm tipped the vial over and a transparent liquid rushed onto the wound. It sunk into it and created a pinkish layer of congealed mucous. Then it started moving. Before their eyes the wound began to close up. Another projection started underneath showing a microscopic look at what was happening.

It was a process he knew all too well.

The rabbit shook, trying to pull away from the arms. Its small squeals echoing around the room. Small tears formed in the gelatinous mesh concealing the blood from view. It increasingly fractured the more the animal fought, scarring into the center of it. After no more than five minters, though it felt like forever, the tear connected in the middle and dripped off, leaving a larger, more enflamed wound than before.

The arms tightened around the rabbit and before they could utter any protests the hologram shut off. The audio did not and after a heart wrenching there was a dull thud.

Someone started talking, gloating over their protests at them – at Peter, but there was a film blocking his thoughts. He could not move, only stare at the grey wall. Someone grabbed his arm. Flash, he thought. Then a soft face was standing before him, whispering to him and holding one of his hands.

Sounds and smell and feeling come roaring back. He remembered the feeling of going on a water slide when he was young. The plastic tubes blocked out the sounds of the water park leaving you falling with nothing but your own thoughts and the water. At the last moment, when he thought everything was helpless, the water came rushing out into the pool right before the tube emerged into the world again.

Julia let go of his hand but stayed next to him. Flash continued to look between him and Seymour.

He should have stayed in bed today.

"Well, Parker. Congratulate me. Mr. Osborn took one look at it and let me come work here after school."

Julia spoke up though her face was pale. "I don't know who you are but this is stolen property"

He really should have stayed home. The rabbit would have been alive then. None of them would have had to seen that.

"Who says?" Seymour's smile never faded.

Flash had never seen Peter's presentation and his face was lined with confusion.

"That's…. Its mine." Peter spoke, eyes blazing at the boy in front of him.

Seymour scoffed.

"I don't think so. It's here in Oscorp. That makes it their property."

His nails bit into the skin of his palm while his mind racked itself for an answer to the unasked question. After months of hard work; of guilt fueling sleepless nights and unending days it was somehow in another's grasp. Someone who hated him. Someone who had mocked him all year. Peter couldn't even comprehend how it was being tested.

"He created this," Julia spoke stepping in front of Peter. "That's what he used get into Stark's internship." She paused again before continuing though Peter wished she would stop. "But you know that, don't you? Because you were rejected for bribery."

It was the first time in all their interactions Peter could say a genuine emotion showed on Seymour's face. He took a step toward Julia, mouth squeezed into a tight line. Peter's hands reached forward to grab onto her and pull her back if necessary.

"Why you little bitch…" he said, stalking closer and then the doors opened tearing down the waterslide tube they were all stuck in and left them exposed to the outer world once again.

They all froze. Peter's hand gripping Julia's backpack, Flash stood to the side looking at Seymour with wide eyes, and Julia, proud with her chin up and standing tall. Seymour moved first, stepping back with a lazy smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Osborn." He said gazing at the door.

Peter couldn't recall much of the newcomer's appearance besides the eerie similarities he had to the very building they were in. He was tall, all sharp angles, shadowing all the deep contours in his face and neck. And his smile. His smile curled at the edges. The only soft thing on the man's face.

"Hello, Seymour. Glad you are showing our guests your project." The man brought his phone up and scrolled through it not taking mentioning the strange circumstances he found them in. "We've got Julia Lang, Flash Thompson, your father is an excellent employee, and Peter Parker."

He glanced up and smiled largely, leaving them with no question of who was in charge. Peter stared at the ground but he could feel eyes lingering on him.

"Welcome to Oscorp."

* * *

Ahh, I hope you like this chapter!

A couple side-notes: I tried to do as much research about science stuff as I can (the car programing and thermal regulation mentioned in this chapter). That being said I'm sure there are some errors.

Not sure how to link the website I used to research the process of making Heat Sink materials NASA uses, but if you google Nanoengineered heat sink materials, Ames technology at NASA, it should come up. Really interesting stuff.

Let me know your thoughts, please! They make my day, week, year, etc.

And a huge thank you to everyone who has read this story, who has favorited, or commented. Every single time I get an email I'm left blown away.


	12. The End

Hi all! I'm sorry this is so long coming! Thank you to everyone who has read or commented! I appreciate it so much.

* * *

His legs rested between the metal banisters of the fire escape and dangled off uninhibited into the air. Peter pressed the crown of his head between the bars so the two twisted rods squeezed the sides of his head. He focused on the sensation, the cold soothed his headache while the pressure dulled everything to the two points on his temples. The burning in the back of his throat weakened and his eyes, weighed down by tears he gave up trying to stop, were free to fall onto his lap.

How had it all come to this?

_His_ voice had been so broken and distanced, but now through the haze of memory it was clear as a chime and full of disappointment.

The air swept up the alley causing goosebumps to rise on his exposed skin. The sky darkened and the stars were exposed but Peter was too lost in himself. He couldn't see how the lights shined down on the Earth, lighting the city and making it more beautiful. He couldn't see anything with his sight blurred by his tears.

He wished he was up there. Maybe if he was a part of the stars everything in his life would seem small and insignificant. Next to those burning gases he could stop being Peter. Even if he was alone like he deserved, he could belong somewhere at last.

The window squeaked and May climbed through the opening. He could hear her mumbling about sore joints and catching colds but the complaints didn't stop her from sitting down next to him, cross-legged instead of sitting with her legs through the slots. She bumped shoulders with him when he offered no greeting.

"Do you want to tell me why you came running in the apartment without giving me a hug and slamming your door?" She said with a small laugh.

Peter looked at his knees until her hand came under his chin and guided his head up. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. She wiped her thumbs under his eyes, then brushed his hair back.

"Oh, Sweetheart. I'm only joking. What happened?"

Peter whimpered and wrapped his arms around May. Like always her own arms reciprocated, firm and strong. She rubbed her hand down his back while whispering words of comfort. She held him until he couldn't cry anymore though his heart was left aching from the battles of the day and the absences that were just beginning to form.

"I lost it, May. I lost him."

Her hand stopped for a moment but she pulled him closer to her hugging him with everything she had.

"It will be okay," she said.

Peter inhaled the vanilla and reminders of his childhood from her hair as they sat on the fire escape ignoring the wind and stars, but even wrapped up in May's arms he wasn't sure anything would be okay again.

* * *

Earlier

He braced his head between his knees and stared at the tips of Julia's oxfords. Flash was pacing while the others watched.

"What the hell was that?" Flash said. "What in the actual hell was that."

"What happened?" Frank said sitting beside Peter with a hand on his shoulder. The other group had found them dazed and escorted by Mr. Osborn. His words offered congratulations to their group and farewell but his curled smile spoke differently.

Monica and Estee said a quick goodbye after exchanging numbers and they all walked out of the building in quick strides. No one talked until they were outside and once there, Flash exploded with a barrage of curses. Frank couldn't stop asking questions while Monica was on the phone with someone, her parents he thought, but her shrill tone wasn't helping anyone calm down.

The nausea wasn't going away and Peter kept his head down. Cement, people, and buildings surrounded him but Peter was floating with no tether to the earth. Not even his breathing or the sounds of his group was keeping him there. He couldn't stop thinking about and suspended in the memories of the blood dripping onto the white lab floors or the cries of the rabbit. Its small paws tensing and scrambling to get away from the robotic arms restraining it.

Julia stood in front of him, guarding him like before and handed him her water bottle.

"Thank you," He said, voice cracking.

"Peter, I know Seymour was weird when we were… well, friends, I guess, but this was something else. Did you see how he smiled?"

"Smiled at what?" Frank said.

"And that was your final entry? I mean, Jesus, that was smart but why did they have it?" Flash said ignoring Frank who had turned away from Peter and was looking at Flash for more answers since he was the most vocal out of their group.

"Stop, Flash. Can't you see he's not feeling good." Julia said not turning from her spot.

"I don't think any of us are. I feel sick now like a ate a bad Subway tuna footlong."

He continued his pacing and Peter waited for the churning feeling to pass. Julia handed him the water again before moving to sit beside him and he sipped on it trying not to listen to Frank and Flash argue about what happened.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were small but the light pressure seeped into his coat and he was back on solid ground again.

"Peter?" she said softly. "How did he get The Weaver formulation?"

Peter shook his head.

"Does… Well, does Mr. Stark know?" He winced, "You've been working with him, right?"

He turned to look at her and noticed the pallor of her skin and the way her hand not resting on his back was fisted on her lap.

"I don't know." He said.

"I'm sure he doesn't" She added, "But that just adds the question of how he stole it."

He looked toward the Oscorp building. The black panes of glass casted a shadow over them still.

Peter shivered and Julia moved her arm with caution around his shoulder and pulled him closer to her. He continued staring up at Oscorp but rested his head against her shoulder. His neck stiffened and Peter tried not to put too much weight on her.

Flash stepped forward so he was in front of them and they both turned to look at him.

"Look man I'm sorry, but we need to report this or something."

The nausea threatened to rise up again but Peter swallowed it down. He didn't think anyone would believe them and if they did, nothing could happen. It was five high school students against a wealthy man who had connections all throughout the city. Asking his groupmates to get involved would get them in trouble. Peter could figure it out on his own.

"I can talk to Mr. Stark. I have a meeting with him already today."

Flash looked ready to go on another rampage but a look from Julia silenced him. More questions circled around but when no answers were reached, one by one the group disbanded. Monica was the first to leave, not hanging up on the phone as she waved goodbye. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the four of them.

Frank was next as he had practice. He insisted they all text him when they got home. Flash, after more words on the subject, promised to text Julia and slipped away with a glance at Peter.

Julia sat next to him, worrying the strap of her backpack back and forth.

"Are you okay?" He knew she must blame him for everything. It was his idea to go and Seymour targeted him as well. Julia smiled and asked him the same question back, pressing the water bottle into his hands.

"Are _you_ okay, Peter?"

A million thoughts raged out of control in his mind and he shook his head.

"I don't even care they have it, but what are they going to do with it?"

Julia screwed the cap on and weighed her words before voicing her thoughts.

"We need to fight this. There has to be some way…"

"No," Peter said without waiting and Julia sighed. "I just don't want to cause a fuss."

"It's yours Peter. You're not making a fuss and what if they are hurting more animals?"

He was the one who sighed this time.

"You're right but I'm scared. I was scared in that room and you stepped in front of Seymour and yelled at him while I did nothing. It was so badass." He smiled with closed lips at her.

"It will be okay, Peter. We'll figure out what to do. We're a team after all."

Peter nodded but after they parted as he walked to his next destination, the remnants warm feeling of Julia's fingers around his, he couldn't stop the cold pit in his stomach from seeding and he wondered, not for the first time that day if he should have just stayed at home and slept.

* * *

He exited the elevator on weak knees. The journey from Oscorp to Stark Tower hadn't been the calming walk he needed. Instead, the consequences of their outing and all sorts of different scenarios kept creeping over him. The next one progressively getting worse.

There was a voicemail from May and texts in the group chat kept chiming so he flipped his phone shut and turned it off.

Friday was quiet today only offering a small hello as he walked down the hall. He didn't have the energy to talk so he was grateful for their hallway was empty as well and for a moment Peter thought there was time to turn around and go home. He could call and cancel the meeting with Mr. Stark.

Peter turned down the hall and stopped short. Blood dripped down the window and Peter reared back. He blinked and it was gone with nothing but silver and white walls. Peter backed to the other side of the hallway and waited until his breaths evened out, not looking away from the spot on the wall.

_We have an understanding with Stark Industries._

Mr. Osborn's voice coiled itself around Peter's thoughts, slick with oil and venom.

Was it true?

His stomach churned as the doors to lab two slid open. He peered in from the hallway but the room was empty again. Like every other day Peter walked into the lab but unlike those days he kept his coat and backpack on. The room settled as he sat down. It was quiet, too quiet.

He laid his head on top of his crossed arms on the table and scrunched his eyes shut. His work stayed in the drawers of the desk and documents in the computer. The images Oscorp hung just behind the lids and the rabbit's cries echoed behind Mr. Osborn's words like a warped movie soundtrack.

He squeezed his eyes tighter until black spots burned through the memories.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be.

After months of working with Mr. Stark he had to believe it wasn't true. There was no way Mr. Stark knew Oscorp had his project. The worked together every week! The man knew his favorite Thai order and Peter had begun to open up to him. He had begun to share himself in a way he almost never did.

What would he do if Mr. Stark gave The Weaver to someone like Norman Osborn?

Peter heard the footsteps before he saw him and sat up.

The doors automatically opened and Mr. Stark burst into the room. His normal, cocky smile was gone and was replaced with tight, pale lips. His cheeks were flushed and topped with a grimace that deepened when he saw Peter.

Peter's heart pulsed and he pushed himself to the back of his chair. The footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent room and Mr. Stark marched toward Peter.

"What were you thinking?" He said with eyes narrowed on Peter.

Peter stood up to get out of the way, the chair clattering behind him.

"Mr.- Mr. Stark?" He said.

"What the fuck where you thinking?"

His was so loud and unlike anything Peter had ever heard come from him that when the man continued forward, Peter backed away. Mr. Stark didn't stop until he stood in front of him, chest heaving. Peter felt small standing against the wall, like he was three years old again being chastised for something by May or Ben.

This was worse. He wasn't three years old and he didn't know what he did wrong.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? Do you?"

Peter shook his head and flushed. Mr. Stark was already talking before he could open his mouth to explain.

"Norman fucking Osborn and do you know what he had to say? No, don't even answer that. He said you and your little friends were there at Oscorp. He said you were getting a tour and that you were interested in the place. You even knew someone who worked there."

Peter flinched back and the blood drained from his face. It sounded like he was the one betraying Mr. Stark, that he was looking at Oscorp for fun.

"No…No, Mr. Stark it-it wasn't like that. I swear."

"It could have been anyone but Oscorp…" Peter shivered at the tone in his voice.

Mr. Stark saw his movement and grimaced again, turning away and pacing until he stopped at the desk. Peter watched as he bent over, hands braced on either side of him. His back rose and fell in rapid bursts.

Peter's mind spun. Mr. Stark was yelling. He was blaming Peter.

He remembered the first night he stayed after one of their lab days. They ate pizza together and Mr. Stark insisted on taking him home until Peter declined and went on his way belly full. He remembered walking home and wondering why this legend, why Tony Stark had invited him to stay. He wondered why Mr. Stark was even investing an interest in him at all.

He froze at that particular thought and a filter lifted from his eyes. Peter began to inspect their interactions from the moment they met. How there always seemed to be so many questions and how Seymour and Oscorp got ahold of The Weaver.

He was just an investment.

The special meeting where Mr. Stark already knew everything about him, working together on their side project, and all the dinners and movies. Every single interaction was just to get close to Peter; to use him.

It was like Sam Carlson over again and waking up in the hospital to find May gone, to find any hope faded and realize it was fake to begin with.

Peter swallowed and stepped forward. He kept his voice low and beseeched the anguish in his chest, the itching in the back of his throat, silent.

"What do you want from me?"

Mr. Stark's back stiffened and he turned around with fists clenched at his side. Hard eyes stared at him and Peter stared back, steeling his resolve and readying to hear the bad news.

"They know what they are doing. You shouldn't mess around there. It's dangerous." He said and Peter continued staring, waiting for the rest.

Mr. Stark ran a hand through his hair and instead of looking strong, his back hunched under an invisible weight. Peter thought he saw a flicker of darkness in his eyes but it was gone before he could focus on it.

"I can't work on the project anymore, Peter." He said in the end. It was the use of his name and not his nickname, kid, which he'd grown to love that took his breath away. Peter's heart stopped and he took another step back, his head shaking back in forth slowly.

So, it was true.

He should have known from the beginning working with Mr. Stark was too good to be true. He had let his hopes get away from him and now it was too late.

Mr. Stark turned away and Peter couldn't help the sniffle escape him.

A small part of him urged him to explain and tell Mr. Stark what happened, but the larger part, the self that was bleeding and wounded wouldn't let him. It wouldn't matter either way. Mr. Stark had made his choice and he was just Peter. He couldn't do anything about it.

If there was anything he was good at it was leaving when someone didn't want him. He walked around Mr. Stark, hoping the man would stop him but he made it free to the door.

Peter stopped on the brink of the hallway and turned his head back making out the edge Mr. Stark's head, facing the window out.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." He said and walked out of the lab, running down the stairs, out of the building and Mr. Stark's life.

* * *

*hides away* I'm so sorry.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!


	13. A New Normal

Hi all! Hope you are doing well and staying safe. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter :/

Thank you all for reading and commenting!

* * *

Routines were the foundation Peter built his life on. Like playing the long game in chess, Peter chose his pieces carefully and played each move keeping the end in mind; only moving when all routes had been thought out. He made his decisions when he knew it would be safe.

But his routine was gone now and Peter was walking on a crumbling chess board. Or maybe he had never been playing chess. Maybe it was a different game altogether.

* * *

His body stiffened under the sheets that clung to his skin. Peter ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat at the back of his neck.

A sliver of moon shined through the window and into his room. Peter turned his phone on the dresser, blinking at the brightness of it and groaned at the late hour. With one eye closed he read through the messages and put the phone back down on the nightstand without answering.

He threw a wrist over his eyes and focused on his breath. The sheet moved with every inhale and exhale. Still feeling restless, Peter turned to face the wall. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the imperfections in the wall.

Peter sighed and waited until it was early enough to get up for the day.

* * *

Allowing himself a few days of moping was hard as he only wanted to stay in bed for longer but he couldn't stand the hovering May was doing. How she was casting worried eyes on him for longer and longer.

He created a new routine for himself. It was just as good as his old one, if not better, he argued with himself.

He was fine.

* * *

Peter sighed as he bypassed the hallway he knew Ned was waiting in and made his way out of the school. One in the midst of a crowd.

He slipped away, down the stairs and outside. Breathing fast he quickened his pace and kept his head forward when he heard his name being called from behind.

"Peter!"

The toes of his shoe dangled off the top step. Peter turned around as Flash reached him. Flash put his hands in his pockets and Peter shifted under the gaze of his friend.

"You're avoiding me." He said.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, pulled the hair there when he felt the blush rise on his neck and cheeks.

"No, I'm not."

"Let's not pretend I'm stupid. I know you're avoiding me and the rest of the little group." Flash said. His eyes pierced Peter until he dropped them to the ground, looking small for once. "We need to talk about it, Peter."

He was beginning to hate the sound of his name anytime someone said it. Since Oscorp, his name became more of a plea, a worry from the people around him.

Peter glanced at his watch.

"No, we really don't. I'm late so I'll see you around sometime." He said turning around and walking down the stairs.

"Answer your text messages." Flash yelled from the top of the steps to Peter.

Peter shook his head to himself and continued on his way. His stomach clenched at the confrontation and he turned off his phone, even though it was only a matter of time before something would happen and everyone wouldn't be content with only trying to talk to him.

Still, they hadn't tried anything too uncomfortable yet and after the conference he could distance himself further in the summer. He would have to keep working, now in the library, until after their presentation.

The subway ride was full of people on their way to jobs in the city.

It was the same subway he'd taken before to get into the city. The same one to get to the internship.

Peter put his headphones in, blocking out the thoughts that threatened to overrun him.

He was fine.

After he got off the subway he walked by a rusting news stand. Across ten screens a woman was crying, speaking between breaths about being mugged. She called for help to the people and the government to stop the frequency of crime in her neighborhood. She called for someone to help.

Peter pulled his jacket tighter around his body and began walking again. Peter navigated through the other hordes of people and kept his head down.

Barry Electronics was situated across from a Bagel & Coffee and a Starbucks. Barry, the owner, joked with Peter that they would never run out of snacks and more often than not Peter found himself waiting in line, food order in hand.

The small brick and mortar shop door was innocuous and the sign nonexistent. Dave, his Ham friend from Dayton was the one who the one told Peter about the store and their opening.

The bell rung as he entered the shop and rows of transmitters and radios greeted him. Classical music wound through the aisles. Peter sat behind a desk in the back where a Yaesu FT-DX3000D sat exposed. Its parts were scattered across the desk all in place where he left them yesterday.

"How's it going back here?" Barry leaned around the doorframe, taking in the tense set of his newest employee's shoulders.

"It's going well, Mr. Barry." Peter said. He stood up, pushing the chair in to face his boss. He played with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking down at the man's shoes. The white plastic covering the toes of the Converse were pealing and brown but the red color of the canvas was bright. Peter looked at his own black ones and the holes forming in the side.

"I just wanted to apologize again, sir. I'm not the best with peo-"

"Now stop there, young man. You don't have anything to apologize for. Mr. Steffes has been coming here for a long time and you were doing your job is all. Not your fault you knew more about the FT than he did."

"But isn't the customer always right?"

The man stepped into the room, pulling the ends of his beard and observing Peter.

"Well, normally that's right but us radio folks sometimes think we know everything and when a new comer, especially a young one such as yourself, arrives it can be intimidating."

"Intimidating?" Peter never in a million years would have thought he would be described as that.

Barry shrugged and Peter smiled with a fresh blush and another thought to the sale he'd lost them at his boss's next words.

"You're young and you know your stuff. That's why I hired you, kid."

At the nickname Peter flinched, curling his shoulders in on themselves.

"Sorry again, Mr. Barry, and thanks for putting me back here."

The man sighed and Peter stopped himself from remembering another person who sighed the same way only a couple weeks ago.

"Think nothing of it, eh? If you're more comfortable back here, I can deal with those pesky customers, alright?"

His shoulders dropped a smidge when Barry left and Peter got back to work. He allowed himself to get lost in the turn of the screw and the electrical board.

* * *

The street lights were long on by the time he arrived back at their apartment. May was already asleep and Peter leaned against the counted in the kitchen watching the ramen spin around the microwave.

He piled blankets over his lap and ate the siracha soaked noodles in bed while trying to finish some last-minute math homework for the next day.

The empty bowl sat on his nightstand beside his turned off phone. Peter worked until he fell asleep, slumped over the Pythagorean theorem.

His woke with a start, chest heaving against his pounding heart. Peter grabbed his t-shirt. Hands raked down his chest trying to wipe the blood dripping off of it away.

He brought his knees to his chest knowing in a distant part of his mind that there was only sweat there. There was no blood now. It was only a memory now.

Shivers racked his spine. Without turning on a light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it

Without turning on the light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it back to his bed. He curled under the covers and flipped to a random page.

Peter couldn't see the words but he knew they were there stained across the page. The indents from the pen on paper created strange patterns on the tips of his fingers. Some were deep and others he could barely feel at all.

He knew his were the deeper scratches. His scrawling handwriting stabbed into the paper in an attempt to sow all his thoughts into something coherent. In the urgency to prove himself Peter often found his wrist cramping and the sides of his hand smeared with black ink. He wrote as if this was all he could, as his life poured onto the page along with the ink.

The other handwriting took up the margins and like small vines plunged into the spaced between his own thoughts on the page. The indents there were shallow, casual, in their impression. They began sparse, only filling in spaces here and there with notes of encouragement or corrections, but as Peter flipped farther into the book they began to intermingle with his writings. The two merged, playing off of each other and entangling.

Tear drops fell onto the pages, smearing the words into something illegible.

And sleep stayed a stranger till the morning. Peter woke to find the notebook crushed between his fist.

He shoved it in the crack between the wall and his bed frame as the alarm blared, before stumbling to the shower.

* * *

_Please answer. We're all worried about you_ \- Julia.

Peter shoved his phone into the locker and straightened the visor he was wearing. He'd have to make sure to email her the rest of his work for their project later.

Suppressing a yawn, he walked to the front of the café mentally going over the different coffee recipes he needed to learn.

Cindy, his manager, stared at him as he began cleaning the counter and he wondered again why she was a manager at a coffee shop if she was not a morning person.

"You're taking orders today. Can you handle that?"

No.

"Sure." he said.

The cash register glared at him. He tapped the counter wishing the shift would go faster and hoping, against prior reason, school would get there faster.

As he typed in the code for a chai latte and toasted bagel, he berated himself for thinking he would excel at a job at a coffee shop.

There were appealing aspects such as the routine which was filled to the brim with recipes and schedules, but there were drawbacks. People, however kind they were at normal hours of the day, weren't at their best in the morning.

His late hours were making work before school a problem he should have seen coming. But all he thought about filling out the applications was that he needed to keep busy, to do something with his time now and not how to talk with customers.

Not to mention, now that his involvement with Stark Industries had ended so prematurely, he had to make up for it with something for his applications.

Cindy wasn't as accommodating as Barry it turned out and this morning Peter was taking a woman in a smart suit's order.

"Right up, Ma'am" he said, not making eye contact.

The woman stepped aside, she was a regular and knew the drill, and two teenagers around his age stepped forward asking what their specials were and how they were made.

He couldn't wait till school.

* * *

He couldn't wait till school was over.

Peter sat in stacks of the library, lunch forgotten beside him. His eyes traced over his work and school schedules again. He swallowed. One more glance at all the deadlines in red and closed his planner.

His eyes closed. He exhaled. The air around him was still.

Peter's mind wandered around safe topics: his new jobs, May's attempt at making flan, and the laundry he needed to do.

Someone poked him and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the books.

"Sorry."

Ned sat next to him munching on pretzels. The boy glanced over from the corner of his eyes and back up the aisle. Peter went to gather his stuff but Ned interrupted him before he could stand up.

"Don't go. I- I'll go if you want to be alone but I won't pester you. Not right now at least." He said the words softer than necessary for the library and Peter settled back tensed against his spot.

As if calculating his movements, Ned settled back against the shelves. He handed the bag over and Peter grabbed a pretzel, nibbling at the ends of it.

Ned smiled at Peter.

They sat in silence until the bell rang. Ned squeezed Peter's shoulder before he hurried off to class and handed him the rest of the pretzels.

Peter held back the tightness nestled in his chest.

* * *

The time in the library replayed in his mind on the subway into the city.

He'd almost forgotten how understanding Ned could. How patient his friend was.

But he knew the questions would start soon. From Ned or Julia or someone. The curiosity practically burned in their eyes and he couldn't talk about it. Any of it.

Barry smiled from the front desk when Peter walked in.

"The FT is waiting for you in the back. I got the part she needed."

Peter nodded and after punching his card, wandered into the back.

May was gone when he got home and a note sat at her place on the kitchen table. He didn't heat anything up for dinner and played his filled lunchbox back into the fridge to use tomorrow.

Peter climbed into bed, clothes on and cracked his back. He set an alarm for the coffee shop in the morning and refused to think about May's handwriting and her missing him at dinner.

He closed his eyes and thought about coffee orders and radio parts.

The new routine was good. Peter was busy now and busy was good.

Not two hours passed from when he laid down that Peter jerked up with nightmares clinging to his pores and sweat sticking to his back.

He groped the notebook in the slot besides the bed and laid there thinking about how tomorrow and the next day would be the same.

How he hated his new routine.

* * *

A/N: Barry Electronics is a real shop in New York!

Thank you all!

You can check out my tumblr (Elizabeth-234) or AO3 account as well :)


	14. Encounters of the Third Kind

Hi friends! Hope you are doing well.

Buckle in for some angst!

* * *

The door slammed.

Peter pressed his back into the wood. His hands clenched at his sides and over his harsh breathing he could hear May pacing from the other side. Her steps were heavy; caught up in her emotion.

"Peter?" She called through the wood. "Peter? Sweetheart, would you please talk to me?"

He peeled himself from the door and tiptoed to his bed. The springs groaned under his weight but nothing emanated from his mouth. The shrill tone in her voice, the desperation, made Peter flinched.

"You've got to stop doing this to yourself. Two jobs? Why didn't you tell me about the one in the city? It's such a long way to go after school and then I get this call from Mr. Morita. Falling asleep for the fourth time this week?"

She paused for a moment and he could see her shadows from under the door. The way she would back away with hesitation but move forward again to try and talk some sense into him.

"Sweetheart, I'm here for you. If you need to talk, whatever it is about I'm here, but something has to give. I need you to work with me."

Peter turned away from the door and pulled the covers over his head. She knocked on the door but all Peter did was huddle deeper under the covers.

Under the darkness he was a child again waking up in the hospital. This time when he rounded the corner and spotted May, instead of running toward her, he began running back to the empty room. The dark space welcomed him but once he was inside the door swung shut. He could see May's shadow but bars sprouted along the door barring her outside.

He was alone and it was all his fault. He was the one who ran away. He created that distance.

Peter opened his eyes and breathed out when he saw May's shadow remaining under the door. Maybe she wouldn't give up. Maybe the others wouldn't give up.

_Mr. Stark did._

He whimpered into the pillow, breathing shallow at the voice winding through his head.

"Sweetheart, I know the school year is over and that you were looking forward to the summer. Well, to you know, but I promise it will be okay. I love you."

He imagined her standing there with one hand spread on the door and the other on her heart, like she was trying to radiate her love through any barriers in the way.

Peter heard her sigh and walk away. The door to her room closed extinguishing the light under his door.

It wasn't like he meant to fall asleep. One-minute Mrs. Brzozowski was lecturing about the importance of close reading and the next, the bell was ringing and the classroom was empty. Mrs. Brzozowski's expression was enough to send him on his way. Looking back on it now he should have known she informed a higher authority about his repeat nap.

It was strange, though. At the time he couldn't catch his breath. Alone in the hallway, the weight of his teacher's stare lingering on his back, Peter stumbled into the restroom. The stall walls closed in against his body. But now Peter was floating.

After Oscorp his weightlessness came at a price of bloody apparitions and curled smiles. This sensation was so much better. He wasn't anxious, or scared, or happy. Peter was just there in his room, and even then, he wasn't sure if he was actually there anymore. Could he be if he couldn't feel the very rise and fall of his chest?

He gasped, lungs heaving. His hands clenched in his hair. He became aware of the bed underneath him, how the springs coiled with the movement of his body. Peter opened his eyes, looked at the ceiling, and counted the perforations in the paint. Gravity, gone only moments before, raged its full influence on him. Kicking the covers off, Peter panted at the influx of sensations; the weight pressing him into the ground.

His phone buzzed and he turned over to read it. Hands shaking, he picked up the phone. Julia was worried about all the paperwork due for their presentation in two weeks. She wanted to go over their plan again.

He turned it over without a reply.

The message deserved an answer. The whole team had been more understanding than he deserved. Julia suggested he go to work at the library when they scheduled their next meeting. Frank and Monica gave each other a glance at their assumption of going to the Tower but Julia stepped forward and said he should email his work in for the project. Their questions brimmed just under the surface but his whole team agreed with ready ease.

Soon enough it would all be over and he would be free for the summer.

Peter shivered at the thought.

May's door closed. He threw the covers back and got up. Clothes already on, Peter stuck his head into the dark hallway, grabbed his keys, and headed outside.

Blocks went by. He walked passed closed stores and restaurants, people waiting for buses, and parking lots empty of patrons.

Peter paid no attention to any of the other people walking on the sidewalk or to where he was going. All he knew was the space he'd been in before hadn't been good. It was too far away from reality. He wasn't Peter anymore. All he knew was he didn't like the emptiness, not when his chest was so full of happiness and people recently.

The emptiness lingered on but if he walked faster maybe he could outrun it.

His footsteps echoed down the sidewalks. Arms flailing to catch up with his pace but he didn't stop until his lungs burned. He braced his hands on his thighs and squatted down to catch his breath.

Light blinking on and off caught his eye. An old retail store, closed sign bright in neon, stood in front of him. The display windows were full of all different sized TVs.

The face of Tony Stark was plastered onto each one.

The man's sunglasses were perched on the tip of his nose and with a smile he pushed them back onto his face. Mr. Stark walked head up through the media following him. They surrounded his person, pushing and yelling, but he never dropped the smile painted onto his face. It was the same expression he wore walking down the hallways of the Tower, the same one Peter had seen him use whenever he was on the news growing up.

It was that smile Peter's heart clenched at because he knew it wasn't real. He'd seen Tony Stark's real happiness, the way his eyes crinkled around the edges and lips opened an inch as he sighed before he laughed. The face identical on each TV in the display was a performance and nothing else.

The only question was if his other smile was a performance as well.

Peter watched as he walked up to a clean, grey governmental-type building. Captain America came, followed by a man with grey hair and a mustache. They shook hands with Mr. Stark, positioning themselves in view of the cameras. With a wave all three, plus a line of security guards, went inside and were gone from their sight.

The ground rose up and slammed into his knees. The cameras were pointed at the gathered crowd around the building, all vying for a peak at the famous superheroes.

"Are you okay?" A woman with thick rimmed glasses stood beside him. She extended her hand forward and Peter got to his feet. He shuffled beside her watching as she searched through her bag. She muttered a small noise at finding her prize and pulled out a travel case of tissues.

"Here you go sweetie." She said.

Peter realized he was crying and hastily pulled out a tissue, dabbing his face before blowing his nose. A flush spread across his cheeks at the noise he was creating. He shoved the soiled material into his pocket with a thank you and his eyes turned back to the screen which was playing Mr. Starks entrance again.

"That is an unhappy man." She said. The words hung stiff and heavy on the night air. Peter examined the images again thinking about her comment.

Flashes of other press appearances or banquets played onscreen. Mr. Stark wore tuxedos and other expensive clothing Peter had never seen the man in before. His goatee was much the same with its original shape and crisp lines, but it was his eyes Peter focused on; How dark they were underneath and his posture was ridged under the harsh lights.

"Must be the camera angle." He said and handed her back the pack of tissues.

"Now that might be, but if anyone has a reason to be upset it's him."

The back of his neck pricked at her statement. It was absurd. What did Tony Stark have to be upset about? The wealthiest man in New York, unhappy; and Peter could fly.

"And why is that?" His voice was sharp but she just tutted and pointed his gaze back to the screens.

"Who do you see up there?" She said like the answer wasn't obvious.

Peter stared at the perfectly tousled brown hair and oversized sunglasses. It was a combination of all those things: the hair gel, formal outfit, and cocky smile that Peter answered without thought.

"Iron Man."

"Ah." She said and her smiled dropped. "That's why."

"He is Iron Man." Peter said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and the lady chuckled. She patted his arm and handed him another tissue before stepping back.

"Yes, of course he is young man, but is that _all_ he is?"

She began walking away, leaving Peter alone and more confused than ever.

* * *

"I said no whip on this."

The blonde standing in front of the counter muttered the complaint without looking up from his phone. Peter checked the order he'd scribbled down and realized his mistake.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Let me fix that."

Cindy shook her head at him from the doorway. He ducked his head so that his visor would conceal the flush working its way up his neck. It wasn't the first time tonight he'd made an order wrong and the line forming behind the counter was proof enough of his influence.

"Come on, Peter." He mumbled under his breath.

The blonde took the fixed drink without a word and Peter raced back to the register.

"Hello and welcome to The Bitter End. What can I make you today?"

"Hi, Peter." A small voice said. Julia fidgeted with her jacket buttons but fixed him a smile.

"Uh, Julia?" he said.

"Do you have time to talk?"

He nodded assessing the line behind her.

"My shift ends at eleven. We can do it another time if that's…"

"No, I'll wait." She said and added "I'll have a small hot chocolate, please."

The rest of his shift went by even slower. Peter confused two more orders. Cindy yelled at him properly by the third and by the time he slid into the booth across from Julia he was ready to fall asleep.

"You look awful." She said with an imperceptible smile.

"Thank you. This is a looked I call uniform chic."

Julia giggled. He set a cup down on the table and pushed it to her side.

"You didn't have to." He shrugged. "Well, thank you." She said after taking a sip of the new cup of hot chocolate.

"How are you feeling about the presentation? I know Monica will be the one giving it but it will be, you know, there. We've all put in the work. It should be fine but I'm worried about how professional our prototype will be since we've rushed through it all and then there will be the question time after the presentations. I know Monica will do fine but it's so nerve wracking."

He shrugged again and Julia leaned across the table. She rested her hands on his fidgeting ones on the table.

"Peter, please." She said, eyes beseeching him. "Please, talk to us. We're all worried about you."

"I'm fine. Really," He added at her raised eyebrows.

"You know Alex hates me." Her eyes wandered away from him onto the different paintings hanging on the walls.

"I'm sure he…"

"Doesn't? Yeah, well, he cries not only when I hold him but when I enter the room. I honestly don't know what to do anymore. It's gotten so bad dad will get up with Al when I walk in. Sometimes I'll sit outside on the porch so I don't have to make them move somewhere else." Her hands trembled on his and he flipped his over. They clung to each other as Julia confided in him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's lonely, Peter. I hate the feeling of having nowhere to go. I'm a stranger in my own home. I don't remember mom much but I remember her always saying how lucky she was to adopt me. I thought I would feel the same with Alex, but instead all I feel is this guilt for pushing him away."

It was too close and Peter swallowed.

"Don't push him away." Peter said. He wasn't sure if he was talking about himself or her little brother anymore. "You push your way into his life. Feed him your homemade snacks and hold him whenever he cries. I promise he will love you. You're sucks a good friend. I know you will be an amazing sister."

Her cheeks flushed bright and she squeezed his hand. Plans of baby domination glinted through her eyes and the expression made him smile. He wished he could be that type of person. Someone who could waltz into another's life like they were meant to be there. Someone who wouldn't give up when there were obstacles barring every passage forward.

"Thank you, Peter. I won't give up on him yet."

Little did he know the extent to which she took his words to heart. A week of working mornings and nights, of school assignments and last-minute homework on the subway, and of after school library trips wishing he was in another building forty floors higher Peter was running on empty.

His life outside of everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. His phone now kept on after May forced him to promise to keep it on after not answering for six hours while at work, was dark most of the time. The group chat was silent and there were no more workplace visits.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

Peter trudged up the steps to his apartment. He shucked off his shoes and stopped when he heard voices from the other room. Like something out of one of his more pedantic dreams, he was met with the faces of Julia and Flash.

"Surprise." Flash said from where he was standing in the corner, ready with a sarcastic smile.

"Why are you guys here?"

"What a warm welcome." Flash said but stopped snickering with a look from Julia.

"Frank and Monica couldn't make it but they stand with us spiritually."

"And where are you standing?"

"Please, don't be upset but we've been doing some digging and wanted to present this as a united front. We didn't want you to think we were abandoning you."

Julia went to her backpack and pulled up a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the crisp lines and held it in front of both of them so Peter could see it in all its PowerPoint-like organized glory. On it was tapped, penciled, and highlighted events and information leading up to and including the changing of hands of his Weaver serum.

She launched into a full-scale presentation about what happened and how it came about, but he wasn't listening. His eyes were glued to the poster board. Somehow, they'd got a hold of a picture of the rabbit. Maybe it was a generic photo, but Peter couldn't help but think about what was on the other side of its white fur. He couldn't help but see the blood dripping down the poster board, infecting all of their pristine bullet points.

Why couldn't everyone forget about it?

He had his new life and they were insisting on bringing this up.

Even Flash was chiming in with bits he heard from his dad at Oscorp.

"Stop." He whispered. They didn't hear. They kept going.

"Stop!" He yelled and stood up. "Please, stop. I can't deal with this right now or ever. Why can't we forget about it? Hmm? It's not a big deal. We'll just leave it be okay. Mr. Stark said he knew so it's all good. Everything is taken care of. Why are you even here? I feel like I'm in the middle of an intervention."

They glanced at each other.

"It is, isn't it? You think I'm some sort of freak?"

Sam Carlson's face swam across his vision. The flush of not belonging. Mr. Stark's back turned away.

_I can't work on the project anymore. _

"Of course not." Julia said.

"Well, I am. Can you please leave? I want to be alone." His voice broke at the last word.

"Come on, man. Be reasonable."

"You too, Flash."

"We're not leaving." They said and remained in their spots.

Peter melted into the couch again.

"Please."

"Peter, what happened wasn't normal and I think Julia's right. We need to discuss it or something. It can't just fade into the background."

"You want me to _discuss_ it? You want me to say how scared I was, how helpless I felt watching what I worked on, be used to th- that way. And Mr. Stark knew about it. He said they have an understanding with Oscorp. An understanding. And I knew it was all going to crumble anyway. Ben died and it's the only reason I made the fucking serum in the first place. I had to make up for Ben and Mr. Stark saw that desperation, didn't he? He must have because I can't go there." Peter collapsed back and balled his hands into his eye sockets. "The one safe place. It's gone and I'm alone again."

Julia moved as if he was a cornered animal. Her arms stretched out in front of her and she sat beside him, scooching closer when he didn't stop her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Flash sat on his other side and placed a light hand on his knee.

His cries were muffled into a pillow and although his two friends sat on either side of him. Their warm touch quieted the anguish ripping through his chest but he'd never felt more alone.

"You're not alone, Peter. We're going to get through this."

He was the wounded rabbit. Vulnerability on show for everyone and despite the serum's promise, despite their kind words Peter kept bleeding out.

* * *

*Hugs all around*

Thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate each and every person who clicks.

Leave a review if you're inclined! They make my day :)


	15. He Returns

Hi friends! Thank you for waiting for this one! I knew where the story was going but was having trouble executing it so hopefully this longish chapter makes up for it. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has read this story in any capacity! I appreciate you all so much.

* * *

"On the count of three."

Everyone plunged their hands together, stacked on each other and shaking as the energy moved through them. It was almost visibly pulsing between them and feeding off of the crowds waiting beyond the curtain in front of them.

"One."

Frank eyes moved between the five of them as he bounced side to side, bumping into Julia each time. He looked like he was born to wear a suit. Maybe it was Peter who was aware of the uncomfortable clothes framing his body.

"Two."

Monica's hand not in the circle was gripping the notecards they'd spent days making and hours going over. Highlights and red annotations covered crammed space on the small paper. Her hair was in some type of bun today and Peter thought she looked regal, very adult-like in her black pantsuit.

"Three."

Julia's hand was at the bottom of their stack below Peter's. Stored in her backpack was a bursting-at-the-seams binder filled with their notes from all the months of their work. The past week Julia met up with him at the library. They went through and organized all of paperwork in case Monica needed some obscure reference.

She held his gaze as they finished their countdown. A small smile rose under her steeled eyes.

"Team!"

Their hands ascended.

Cheers erupted.

The stage taunted them from where they stood in the wings.

Frank grinned while Julia narrowed her eyes. Monica whipped up her notecards, beginning to go through them again, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

A tech alerted them it was their time to present. Monica hugged them all one last time and walked on stage. The rest of them peered around the curtain trying to get a glimpse of their teammate while she presented. Her words were loud and clear, and Peter's eyes strayed to the captive audience, overlooking all the heads and searching for one in particular. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find the certain person amongst the crowd or not.

Julia nudged his side and his attention shifted back to Monica.

* * *

Peter winded through the crowd trying to spot Frank, the tallest of their group, over the heads of everyone milling about the room.

He tried not to think about how strange it was being in the Tower again. How he knew down the hallway through the first door there on the left was a broom cupboard where Mr. Stark showed him a stash of snacks. 'Easy access on the way to meetings' the man had said. He withheld the urge to find an empty room so he could talk to Friday, afraid he might end up like those employees yelling to empty rooms with no hopes of an answer. His stomach turned at the thought that their friendship was contingent on his internship.

People were gathered in groups waiting for the news and he ignored his racing heart. Peter fiddled with his tie. He loosened it and attempted to straighten it only to shorten the front material. It was crumpled by the time he was done 'fixing' it.

The presentation was over and his internship would be done with the announcement at the end.

Monica was a queen. She gave the presentation, nailed the question and answer portion by redirecting their inquiries and concerns with a smile and no hesitation. They ran to her once she exited the stage and held her arms until she got to a chair, which she promptly melted into it. Monica smiled, drained but happy, as they showered her in praise. Her hand covered her mouth as she muffled her giggles like a child.

"I can't believe we did it. That was… amazing." She giggled and relaxed back into the chair.

"You freaking nailed it, Mon. Like seriously amazing stuff." Frank said.

They walked back to the waiting room and sat together on the couch, pressed side-by-side as they watched the other groups representatives present on the monitor stacked in the corner of the room. Flash popped his head in after his group went and then they were sent into the crowd to mingle with different companies and 'influential' people in attendance.

His team took to this portion of the day with gold stars. Even Julia got in there and got the card of a small start-up asking her to email them when she graduated.

It felt like the whole state of New York was there. All of them dressed in tailored suits and dresses, their posh hair and clinking glasses catching Peter's attention with every turn. He observed these groups as he continued on his search. People laughed imbibed from the courage generously poured into the glasses.

He wasn't oblivious enough to say no one wanted to talk to him. That would be false, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't worth their time. A tall woman with dark hair had asked for his resume assuming he was older than a freshman. He didn't even know how to fill out a check and she wanted to know his work experience. With a polite nod, Peter took her card and walked away. He ended up finding Flash digging into the buffet, who he followed around until Flash joined up with his own team.

Peter couldn't correct the tightness in his necktie no matter how much his fingers played with the material. His rented tux drooped around his shoulders but was too short in the pants. At least he was wearing his trusty Converse. Once May got over her initial tears at seeing her baby dressed so nice she had zeroed in on the offensive footwear. Her objections were minimal at his insistence and she gave in noticing the tightness in his jaw. In the end she shrugged her shoulders and said most people would be looking at his face and not his footwear. Peter didn't stop blushing until they were on the subway into the city.

"Hey Peter." Julia called and his teammates closed the gap between them, carving a space between the other groups of people.

"We've got it in the bag, don't you think?" Frank said, eyeing the plate filled with small appetizers in Julia's hands. She saw his wandering gaze and moved her plate over so it was further away from him.

"Of course, we will." She said. "Get your own food." She added but extended the plate over at the puppy eyes and pout Frank was shooting towards her. He snatched up the miniature hotdog and moaned while he chewed.

"I don't know how you can eat at a time like this." Julia said. Peter watched as he snuck another hotdog off Julia's plate when she bent over to say something to Monica. He winked at Peter.

"Dude, this is so good. All vegan it says and I won't be eating anything like this in the college dorms."

Julia asked if he'd been assigned his roommate and he began to tell them how he'd matched right away with a cello-playing, Hawaiian shirt-wearing Political science major.

Monica moved to the side, stepping out of their circle. Peter stared at the back of her head not believing who was standing beside her.

"Is that…?"

"Yep," Julia stepped closer. "Estee came right up to us when we first got out here and they haven't stopped talking yet. It's kind of cute if she didn't work for the devil."

"Julia!" He said but couldn't help but agree.

Frank chuckled and she just shrugged. Peter looked over at his teammate and their ex-tour guide. They were standing close. Monica reached over and touched Estee's shoulder. Her hand lingered and a pink blush stole across his teammate's cheeks when the other girl said something he couldn't hear. Estee also wore a pantsuit but hers was a bit softer looking than the girl she was standing next to. Maybe it was her hair that was down. He tried to compare the features on each outfit but gave up after remembering May's comment about his abysmal fashion sense. Either way the pair looked great together.

He couldn't stop the churning in his stomach when he thought of who she worked for.

Julia informed them all that Lee already came around and wished them luck before seeing to the other teams. Clipboard in hand she ran down the list of people they should talk too, people they needed to talk to, and people to avoid before whizzing away to do the same for everyone else.

Frank kept stealing Julia's food when her gaze started to drift to the stage situated in the front of the room. Its imposing mass was difficult to keep Peter's eyes from darting there. His laughter and outrageous comments about the people around them distracted everyone from their growing nerves.

The team continued to talk and joke but Frank's laughter was a little too loud. Monica kept muttering mistakes in her presentation to herself and whoever was next to her, to which Estee would retort, and Julia didn't touch a single morsel on her plate.

Peter couldn't stop straightening his tie. His fingers rose of their own accord running down the ridges and tracing the pattern as he watched them all pretend to be fine.

Surrounded by all these fancy people and the onset of memories from the building, his internship, Peter's thoughts kept returning to Ben.

When he decided to make The Weaver.

Where this all started.

His uncle's hands were callused and cracked around his nails and palms. They were 'man's hands' he would say to Peter. Peter remembered rubbing sand between his own hands in hopes they would be more like his uncle's.

Memories of running clouded his thoughts.

His feet raced down the path to their home. One hand grasped at his nose, the slits in his fingers allowing the blood to drip down onto his shirt, and the other clutched his reward. A rock leapt out and sent him sprawling. The dirt ground into his hands and knees, leaving stains on his pants. Peter shuddered but climbed to his feet. The trek home was silent and void of any other kids.

He ran passed May who yelled his name once she got a look at the state he was in, and sat, eyes vacantly staring at the evidence left by the scraps of his fall. Grass and tinges of blood seeped through the knee of his pant. His fist remained closed. The metal pinched the skin of his palm but he couldn't let go. Not yet.

The door creaked open and his uncle's head popped through. He observed Peter from behind the wood, left, and came back carrying some tissue, band aids, and antiseptic. Ben knelt in front of Peter with a mumble about old knees and back pain.

Peter stared down at his fist.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

He nodded avoiding his uncle's stare. A pulsing ache emanated from behind his nose and come tomorrow he would have another shameful trophy from the day. This one would be a bruise from where the kid had hit him.

Ben had taught him how to throw a punch when he went into middle school. 'It's good to know,' he had said with a wink. It wasn't something he ever thought he would need. He wished he hadn't.

"What happened?"

He swallowed and uncurled his fingers to reveal what was hidden inside.

Ben picked up the metal object. He wiped off the dirt around the edges and shined the surface against his shirt before inspecting the lettering decals in his school colors on the front.

"What was the word?" Ben said examining the pin's inscription closer to his face. He handed Peter an icepack and tissue for his nose which had stopped bleeding and waited for an answer. The shirt he was wearing was beyond help so he pressed the tissue into the crust forming on his chin and mouth.

"Indomitable." He muttered under the tissue. Ben tapped his leg and Peter straightened it out keeping a wince from his face. His uncle seemed to know anyway and gave a squeeze to his calf.

"Remind me? How is it spelled?" Ben rolled up his pant legs and began disinfecting the cuts from his fall.

"I spelled it right." Peter said.

"I know. I see your medal. I'm guessing those other kids weren't very happy with your indomitable spelling skills?" Ben said with a smile.

"Ben." Peter said dragging out the syllable until the band aids were in place on his knee. His uncle smiled but his eyes focused on the swelling in Peter's face and a frown took over his expression again. He moved to sit next to Peter. They both rested their backs against the bed and stared at the clothes laying on Peter's furniture and floor.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there today. I wished I'd seen it when you spelled it correctly. Let me see, I think it goes: I-N-D-A-"

"That's not right!" Peter said turning to grab Ben's arm.

"Oh, and how is it spelled?"

Peter realized what Ben was trying to do. There was a twinkle in his eye but Peter promised himself earlier when all his classmates had laughed at him he wouldn't do it again and not even for his uncle.

"I, um, I forgot." He said.

Ben covered Peter's hand. Heat spread up his neck and across his cheeks.

"When is the next round?" Peter shook his head. He wasn't going and placing himself in that position again.

Surrounded.

On the ground.

Weak.

Like he always ended up no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

"I-N-D-O-M-A or is it I? If only there was a spelling bee winner to help me out."

"Ben. I don't want too."

"You're right. I think I've been spelling it wrong this whole time. I think It's I-M-D-"

"Alright, alright." Peter said and proceeded to spell the word out as he had on the stage hours before.

Ben clapped as Peter said the last letter.

"So when can I see you next."

The sleeve of his jumper became fascinating between the alternative of answering his question. The original draw of the spelling bee had begun with the need for approval. He had this image of May and Ben sitting in the stands, watching as, for once, he could win at something. Much to his uncle's chagrin, sports were not something Peter were good at. At the best of times he could manage to keep the injuries to himself and not the other players. Ben had patched him up when he came home with bruises and cuts but said maybe Peter should try something else. He noticed his uncle's eyes roaming to his old varsity jacket he had given Peter in hopes he could add his patches to it.

While he felt like an unwanted guest in his body, unable to coordinate it enough to catch a football or swing a racket, Peter knew his mind better than the back of his hand. Equations, school, and books were what he was good at.

That was okay most of the time. But he felt an ineffable tug in his abdomen every time he saw the varsity jacket handing behind the door in his room.

His stomach gave that same tug sitting there besides his uncle, the man he looked up to on how to be a good person, on what a good man was supposed to be.

"I don't think I want to do it anymore. I mean I'll be in high school next year and you know I have a… difficult time with people. I just- well I think I'm too shy." Peter said resting his head against the bed behind him.

Ben turned to face him. He took the tissue from Peter's hand and wiped the crusted blood under his nose away, careful of the swelling.

"It's okay to be shy Peter. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it can be a good attribute. I just want you to remember that you can't let that, or anything, stop you from doing something you want to do. Courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, Peter. They are acting in spite of fear because you know it's right course of action."

Peter stared at his uncle, feeling his fingers brush through his hair before resting on his shoulder. Something in his face must have influenced his Uncle for Ben pulled him in for a hug. Peter froze at the unfamiliar sensation and then melted into his uncle. His strong arms enveloped Peter. His words spoke true for that moment. Peter was safe.

Someone laughed and he was back in the Tower surrounded by his waiting team.

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and his heart stuttered an uneven rhythm.

"Congrats everyone!" May said coming around Peter to join the circle. Her hand was too small but for a moment, lost in the memories, it had felt so much like his uncle's. What he wouldn't give for Ben to be here today.

An echo of "thank you" went around the circle and May greeted everyone with one of her famous hugs.

"I've heard a rumor there's going to be fireworks or something at the end of this. What a way to celebrate your victory, right?" May said with sparkling eyes.

"We don't know we won." Peter responded but the rest of the team replied with enthusiasm.

"It's certainly a showstopper. Nothing around here is done halfway" Monica said.

"I expect not. Speaking of showstoppers when is Tony Stark supposed to get here?" She must not have seen the looks from Monica because Estee continued talking. "Is he making one of his world-famous grand entrances then?" Monica elbowed the girl in the ribs.

The group went silent. They tried not to but their eyes made their way to where Peter was standing. His hands ran down his tie again and the ground couldn't have been more interesting if Frank sprouted wings and a tail.

"Mr. Stark's not coming." Julia said after the tension rose. "Lee also mentioned that he was called away on urgent business but he didn't wish the teams luck because it was unnecessary. We were all too good for luck." She said, staring at Peter.

Mr. Stark _wasn't_ coming.

_Mr. Stark_ wasn't coming.

Because of him.

That was the only reason. It had to be.

Was he so disgusted with Peter? Did he mess up enough that the man couldn't even be there for his program?

Shame welled inside of him.

"Excuse me a moment." He mumbled. Peter turned around and stumbled away. People looked at him as he walked through the crowd. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he needed. Peter could almost hear all the whispers about him; about what they thought happened. The faces of his teammates, staring at him with wide eyes, remained in his thoughts.

The careful way they had treated him since Oscorp and the dissolvement of his internship came rushing up. Julia's quiet way of suggesting the library, the group chat where they would talk about nothing to do with their project, them all dropping notes and snacks off to him and then sitting with him to talk.

He'd thought they'd seen his smile and that was it, but somehow, they knew. They saw his pain and took steps to be there. For him.

"Peter." May called out as she followed behind him.

He didn't stop. A man in a velvet tux took a step back and Peter dodged him. He didn't spare the stage a second glance and continued beyond the buffet tables he had yet to peruse. Maybe he could go to the broom cupboard down the hall.

"Peter." May said again, closer this time. She touched his arm, wrapping her hand around his wrist and gently stopped his movement. Her hand slid down his wrist to capture his hand in hers. Skin met skin and Peter stared at the lines etched into his aunt's face.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. S'not your fault." He said. The occupants around them besides a cursory glance paid no attention and Peter shuffled his feet. "I- I just can't talk about it. And I wanted him to be here despite how much I wanted h… Why isn't he here May? It's my fault."

Peter wondered what man he'd failed he was talking about. His hands trembled and she gripped him tighter. May pulled them further toward the wall and away from people.

Her eyes, though older, still glowed like the first time she walked into his hospital room. She gazed intent at him and her words were harsh, but gentled by her thumb stroking his hand. There were no answers in her eyes but May did what she did best and that was bring him hope; bring him home.

"This was the tie he wore on our wedding, did you know? The tie he tried to teach you how to tie for the middle school promenade. Do you remember it?"

She pulled it from his jacket and, pressing her hands down the center tried to iron out the wrinkles he'd worried into it.

"You listen here Peter. I am so proud of you. So proud and happy and filled with this big ball of love we are standing in this room and that you're my son. I know this past year hasn't been easy. I've been working a lot and I know our apartment has been quiet. I've watched you and despite everything, you always work hard for others. Your Uncle Ben would be so proud." She was holding him by the shoulders, almost forcing him to look into her eyes.

"He was always proud of you, Peter. When you won the spelling bee and even when you stopped all that. He was so happy to be with us, our family, together. You know he'd come home sometimes after work, he'd tell me this after the fact, and just stare up at our house. Watch the lights turned on and off, knowing we were inside and waiting for him. And if Tony Stark doesn't want that, well I say screw him!"

Her eyes blazed and Peter believed her for a second until he remembered Mr. Stark's eyes. The way they looked through his face when he told Peter he didn't want him to stay.

"Anyone who has a bone to pick with Stark is a friend of mine."

Peter's shoulders tensed at the voice. The oil oozed out of the man's words leaving a heavy air around them. A slim hand entered his vision, injecting itself between himself and May. Spindle-like fingers waited for May to return the gesture. Peter stared at May begging her silently not to.

"I think you may have misheard me, Mr….?" She said shaking his hand. He cringed at the way May's hands looked curled around the newcomers like prey caught in a trap.

"I don't think so but we'll forget I overheard anything. It was quite rude to eavesdrop but I couldn't wait for the chance to talk to Peter here. Could you introduce me to this beautiful woman, Peter?"

Mr. Osborn smiled, curled, and Peter shivered. All he wanted to do was run back to his room under his covers, and away from all these people- from this person.

It was not worth wearing this ill-fitting tux over.

"This is my Aunt May. May this is Mr. Obsborn. He works at Oscorp." He held onto May's hand for a beat more then looked to Peter.

"There's no need to be so humble. I own Oscorp, which by the state of things over here is doing remarkably well. You may call me Norman."

"Yes, you exude humbleness." She gave pointed look to his green chatoyance tux. He cleared his throat and pushed back his hair.

Peter looked between them and in a rare thought of calm, he knew if anyone could take on Mr. Osborn, it was May. While her hugs were legendary, so was her temper.

"I was coming to say congratulations, Mr. Parker. Second place is quite a feat."

"We don't know the results yet."

If possible, his smile curled tighter. The man stepped closer, leaning towards them as if he was about to divulge a secret.

"Well, let's say I have some insider information. I even happened to skim through your proposal and was most impressed. You should be proud of him, May."

He hated how he said his aunt's name. May looked between them and stepped back towards Peter.

"I am." She said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

"Quite. Besides the fact your little group only came in second, I came over here to make you an offer Mr. Parker. Now you've seen the… paltry side of things. You would benefit from coming to Oscorp and seeing how a true visionary runs thing instead of how it's done here. You're speechless, I see. How about I sweeten the offer? That little serum you witnessed the last time. You could work on that again. Your friend has been working so hard on it but he can't quite get it right."

"Peter, what is he talking about?" May's hand tightened on his shoulder.

A feigned shock came over his face.

"Your boy here can tell you all about it later. What do you say, Peter? Ready to play with the professionals?"

Peter swallowed. His hands hung in fists at his side as he decided the best course of action.

There was no way in hell he was going to work for the man standing before him. It was enough being a foot away from him, smelling the pungent cologne, but then he was bashing Stark Industries. He was making fun of Mr. Stark. It didn't matter that he didn't want to see Peter again. None of that did at the moment.

Peter squared his chin.

He took a breath in and tried to take comfort from May by his side. She would never let anything bad happen but he couldn't stand by while someone hurt Stark Industries and all it stood for.

"Thank you for the…opportunity, but I much prefer places that don't have to steal their projects."

Mr. Osborn stepped forward and Peter resisted the urge to step back. His eyes narrowed to slits.

"If that's how you feel, Mr. Parker I wouldn't want to intrude on this… happy situation. We know what we're doing and what's happening. It's your loss if you don't see it." He turned to May. "But this is for you and I won't take no from such a fine woman. It would hurt my honor too much."

May reached forward to grab the business card in his hand and at the last moment he flipped his fingers over so his palm was supine and grabbed hers. Peter's breath stopped. He saw her tense up. Her hand pulled, ready to escape but Mr. Osborn held tight. Words were on the tip of his tongue when someone stepped forward.

"There you are Mr. Osborn, Sir. The press are doing rounds and need you to give a statement."

Mr. Osborn let May's hand fall and he finally stepped back giving them space, though his attention remained on the pair of them.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again. Give my regards to Stark if he ever decides to show his face." Mr. Osborn said, eyes lingering before Estee called his attention again.

They walked off, Estee turned around at the last moment and mouthed an apology to them.

Peter stood beside May in his favorite building in the world. People surrounded them but he would have rather been anywhere else.

* * *

"Why won't you tell me what this is all about, Peter? Peter? You need to breath, Sweetheart."

Somehow, they were home. He recognized the yoga mat May was pacing over with shoes on as the one situated in their living room.

It ruins the grip if you do that, she always said. Maybe she forgot. Maybe it didn't matter anymore.

He was sitting, no, laying on the couch. His head pounded. She was talking but Peter was too empty to receive her words.

"…here. You are here at our apartment, on the couch. I threw that ratty old blanket Ben tried to knit on you. Feel its weight over your body."

She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes bored into him, keeping him along with Ben's blanket grounded in their apartment.

He stared at her not understanding what she was saying. Not feeling anything besides the cracks fissuring through his thoughts.

May smelled of lavender.

Peter noticed her hair flipped out at the same angle as it had since he was a child. She sat next to him on the edge of the couch he was lying on, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and to smell the calming scent.

He came back to the world piece by piece; out of breath and melted into the couch.

May held Ben's necktie in her hands. It dangled between her legs and Peter became aware she was speaking to someone other than him.

Her head bent low almost touching the tie and her words drenched in loneliness echoed through the apartment in the picture frames of their family lying face down against the bookshelf and the worn paint not touched-up since he was in middle school.

Peter knew who the words were for and wished Ben could hear them somehow.

He reached forward and rested his hand on her leg.

"I'm sorry, May. I'm so sorry." His lips trembled and her hold tightened on him.

"No, Sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much and I want you to do something for me. I want you to start working for yourself and no one else. I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it's not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?"

She moved so his head rested on her lap. Tears broke through and ran down his cheeks, soaking into her dress. He nodded into the material.

May held him. She didn't say anything besides her love for him and in the moment that was all that mattered.

It was funny, really. Almost ten years had passed but they ended up in the same place; locked in an embrace and heartbroken over someone leaving their lives.

He wondered why he hadn't given up yet.

He worried about what he should do now.

All he knew was the emptiness he carried around with him every day. How despite the absence of everything it weighed down on his body and soul. It made getting up in the morning and sitting with someone at lunch so difficult and he was tired of carrying it. He couldn't carry it anymore.

Peter wasn't happy.

He let the thought sink in. Let himself truly understand what it entailed. And then he tried not to worry about if he deserved it. Whether it was his right to be happy. All he wanted was the emptiness to be filled again.

There wasn't a path to go down and he didn't know where to begin, but May was here. She was always there for him and he hugged her tight.

He vowed he would find some way to try.

Because although he was only Peter Parker and he'd made so many mistakes so far. He wanted to be happy.

* * *

Let me know what you think :)


	16. Civil War

Hi all. Thank you for being patient on this one. I haven't been at my best recently and writing has taken the brunt of that. In saying that I hope you all doing well and enjoy this one.

I'm also working on my other story "A Night She won't Soon Forget" and that should be posted sometime next week!

* * *

Peter reclined back onto the towel. Sand moved under his body to accommodate the shifting in weight as he changed positions. He closed his eyes and listened to the people talking over the waves lapping at the shore. More sand underneath his head siphoned down creating a gritty pillow for his head.

He exhaled.

Flash and Julia were talking to his side. Their soft tones were loud enough to guess Flash had done something irritating and Julia was, in her way, telling him off. He couldn't hear their specific words but he smirked at a cry of dismay from his friend over something Julia said. Their laughter washed over him along with the general sounds of a beach. It was good to have them close.

He smiled.

They were upstate for the weekend at one of Frank's mom's cottages. The home, bigger than any house let alone cottage had the right to be, was hidden away in the Finger Lake Region. It was beautiful country surrounded by hills and vast trees, all miles from the city. Peter couldn't tear his gaze away from the farms and forests they passed to get to their little oasis. He didn't ask for specifics when Frank invited them and sitting on the beach with everyone he was glad he didn't let himself turn down the offer. It was nice to just be for a moment.

Their whole team came out plus Flash, Estee, and Ned in celebration of their runner-up status for the conference. He hadn't thought there was anything to celebrate but his team had been overjoyed at the announcement. The group chat overflowing with all sorts of ecstatic messages and memes.

The celebration had to be put on hold because of the fast approaching end of school. Finals took over their thoughts for the time and everything else was waylaid. Frank and Monica were graduating so their schedules were filled along with the addition of making sure they were ready for the fall. He and Julia tried to help as best as they could but school bogged down their own schedules as well.

Peter expected everyone to separate in a natural way with all of these factors and was dismayed, as well as pleased, the group chat never extinguished. There wasn't a day where someone didn't text something, whether it was Frank talking about one of his games or Julia making sure they were all doing okay for the week. Those small connections were enough to get him through finals and not thinking about what happened.

Summer arrived with the abruptness of the last ring of school bell and finish of finals. One minute the world was on your shoulders and the next it didn't matter how long you went without sleep to study for the history final. The average was a 59 percent and Peter scraped by with a 65. At least he'd aced all his other finals. Those acted as a buffer when May asked him about the results.

The hot season had been… different than what he was used to. There wasn't any other way he could describe it. Instead of the long walks alone, waiting for May to get home from work by reading or working ahead on homework for the upcoming year Peter was familiar with, this year Peter had friends. And they wouldn't take no for an answer.

The whole group of them stuck together as much as they could even after the presentation. Julia met him at the library more times than he could count. Although she didn't have homework the two of them, and sometimes Flash accompanying her, would read there. More often than not they would then go no a fieldtrip around the city, finding new spots and ice-cream places they had all never been before. Sometimes Frank and Monica would join them on their escapades.

It was glorious.

And it was exhausting.

He hoped they wouldn't change when fall was ushered in with the start of school and life began again.

Only two more weeks until the date back.

Logically, he knew it wouldn't be the same but the thought of starting out his sophomore year the same way his freshman year began was unbearable. It had to be different. He suspected, good or bad, that nothing would quite be the same again. But he was also different.

Peter thought about everything that happened – everything he went through – and realized how much had changed. It was a chilling reflection. The depths of evolution he went through in the past year alone. He'd been lost in the sea of grief as school began and it wasn't until a white flag, in this case a piece of paper hanging outside of the office, waved that something shifted. Of course, he was resistant to it and avoided the signup sheet simultaneously afraid and yearning for what signing his name could bring.

From there it all tumbled accumulating into even greater changes than Peter ever dreamt possible. Ned was steadfast in his offer of friendship. Cafeteria lunches became commonplace when Peter didn't feel comfortable before. He'd even begun to enter into the debates Mike held at the table earning approving glances from Midge and Jaimik.

In the midst of all this Peter won the internship. Him. Peter Parker. The freak no one liked. The one who felt best in a safe place instead of in the bustling halls of school was interning at Stark Industries with some of the smartest people he'd ever met.

He remembered wishing he could be like the people who walked into the building like it was any other day; not stopping to stare at the intricate planes and panels leading up to the clouds. While Peter often ran late and didn't have time to stop and stare, he found the building had become a safe place to him. His seat by the window was always empty and waiting for him and besides it was a cabinet full of snacks Julia would share. Lab five and its occupant were beginning to be as familiar and his talks with Friday never failed to make his day.

Thinking of lab five made his chest tighten. Something he always felt when Mr. Stark was mentioned somehow. He wondered what would have happened if everything had gone differently.

If Peter explained.

If he'd stood up for himself and made Mr. Stark listen.

What would Ben have said about it all? How would he react to his nephew forgetting to his speech about courage and shyness? In actuality, Peter had no doubt Ben would've stormed into Stark Tower and gave Mr. Stark a piece of his mind. Ben's approach would be direct and the results would be swift, he was sure of that much. But that was something Peter couldn't do.

He respected Mr. Stark too much to try and push himself into the man's life. There was a list of things left unsaid but maybe it was for the best. At least now the man attributed the faults to something Peter did instead of who Peter was. He wasn't sure if he could handle another rejection of himself again. Especially not from Mr. Stark.

Peter shook his head on the towel and ignored the sounds around him as long as he could.

All of these incited the changes in himself. He was still Peter but at the same time he was something more. He had friends and family. People he could contemplate opening up to. Topics he was passionate about. A job doing something he excelled at. They all were apart of him now when a year ago he could never have dreamed of any of it. And he felt so lucky to be able to think that; to be laying there on the beach as his friends surrounded him.

And that was that.

Julia squealed and began laughing. She stood up in a hurry, spraying sand onto her towel and Peter's face. He sat up, covering his face with his hands to block the sun while trying to spit out the offending grit in his mouth.

"What was that?" He found Julia soaking and Flash holding a bottle full of liquid.

"You stand back, Flash" She yelled. He smiled and progressed further toward her. Peter scrambled onto his feet at the deranged grin Flash sent him. Julia's hands were up to provide a barrier in front of her. Her head moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh, no you don't. Peter, I'm warning you." He stepped toward her. "Flash, you've corrupted him!"

Flash moved forward after a nod from Peter. Julia darted backward but Peter blocked her exit. Flash raised the bottle again and flipped it over but Julia was too fast. The water ended up dripping into his hair and down his face. At least the sand from before was washed away.

His bangs flattened onto his forehead and he coughed to get the liquid out. Flash and Julia's laughter ignited further at the sour face he was making. Her arm was over Flash's shoulder and the two huddled together as he wiped the hair from his eyes.

"So funny." He frowned when they continued to laugh. Their eyes crinkled and he couldn't help but smile in response. Peter stepped toward them and shook his head. Water sprayed over the two, provoking protests. They followed him as he ran to the dock, dodging their attempts to throw the last of the water on him.

Frank stepped out of the house and onto the porch. His yells of encouragement were followed by the sounds of his steps as he ran toward them.

"Yeah, fight it out!"

The planks of the dock shook under each step forward. They all backed up, not wanting to get in the way until they realized they were stuck between the dock and water with nowhere to go.

"No!" They yelled united under a common enemy fast approaching. Frank continued to yell. His eyes bulged out and Peter could almost imagine his tongue leaving his mouth and dangling over the side of his face. At the last moment he extended his arms out on either side of his body and jumping forward. He dragged the three of them up and over the water until they crashed into the waves.

Peter swam back to the beach. Sand squished through his toes as water pooled in his bathing suit before dripping down his legs. He stood at the precipice of the water watching as the tide moved back and forth, over and away from his feet. In the corner of his vision he could spy Frank pushing Julia into the water again at the edge of the dock. Her raised voice filled with mirth so at odds with her normal quiet tones. It seemed everyone was able to let loose on their weekend trip.

He turned his back on the shore and made his way to his towel. Monica and Estee had arrived while they were swimming. They smiled as he approached.

"Cold?" She asked snickering at the shivers running down his arms. Peter nodded and sat down careful to keep his sand encrusted feet off the towel. He watched the others continue to swim around. Their laughter punctuated the splashes as they jumped off the dock.

Monica moved over and sat next to him. Her head rested on top of her knees tucked against her chest.

"Peter?" She said in a quiet tone. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything or when a good time to talk would be but I wanted you to know I'm really proud of our team. I could tell you thought we blamed you for the place we got but the thought never crossed my mind. You know?"

Peter swallowed and turned to face her. She stared straight at the lake but there was an openness in her face.

"I didn't…" He cleared his throat. "How did you know?"

This time she did look over at him with a soft smile. There wasn't an ounce of blame there. Peter shifted on the towel.

"I think I know you by now Peter. Plus, I would've felt the same if I was… you know."

The tightness knotted in his chest in response and he did his best not to remember Mr. Stark's parting words. Instead he focused on his teammate. It was her senior year and college was around the corner for her. He wondered what she would do now that both of her internships were done and her life was just beginning. She was sure of what she wanted that there was no doubt she would do something great. There was no reason for her to lie because he knew she would have no trouble saying her mind. Peter looked over and was grateful now for that straightforwardness. It let him accept her words and feel the knot loosen.

"Thank you." He said.

She leaned over and put a hand around his shoulder, drawing them together.

The sun was setting behind a row of trees on the other side of the lake. Clouds lingered in the sky creating specks of purple and black overlaid on the fire palate in the sky. Frank, Flash, and Julia finally crawled out of the water and onto the shore all shivering and prune-skinned from the water. They plopped down on the towels and started digging into their bags to grab the snacks they brought down from the cottage.

Peter accepted a handful of grapes. Everyone laughed and talked as they dried off. Two more weeks until school and in that moment, Peter would've given everything to stay on that lake; somewhere in upstate New York with his friends.

* * *

"How's the Yaesu doing?" Barry asked from his spot in the doorway.

Peter looked up from behind a pair of magnifying goggles. Barry's features were distorted under the pair of goggles but he smiled at the way Peter was almost bouncing off the seat as he nodded.

"I think it's done." He said.

Barry entered the room and Peter shoved everything over to the side of the desk so he could move the radio over to where his boss was standing. Barry whistled as he inspected the new parts all secured in their right place. He tinkered around with a few of the disks but then stepped back.

"This is great, Peter. I'm glad you talked me into those extra hours, though your old manager is missing out on one good barista. She's a beauty. With your finishing of that I think you deserve the rest of the day off."

Peter opened his mouth to protest; to say he needed the distraction, but Barry was already waving him off.

"No worries. You've been working so much and I know you want some time before school. I've got the shop covered here."

At least he was kicking Peter out in the nicest way possible but he wasn't sure what he would do now. Frank and Monica had moved into their dorms the weekend before. Frank was out of state on a football scholarship. The pictures they sent of their cramped rooms did not inspire excitement about Peter's own future prospects. Their small updates while sporadic allowed everyone in their team to stay connected.

Flash and Julia were doing something together which had surprised Peter but everyone else didn't share his reaction. Monica said he should have seen it coming and on reflection Peter realized they had spent a large amount of time together at the cottage. He thought it was cute they were friends. Julia brought a sort of calm to Flash whose energy otherwise had too many directions to go to. Under the other's influence Peter noticed the focused energy in Flash and a rise in confidence in Julia.

Ned was Ned. The boy texted Peter if he wanted to hang out today citing movies they could watch but with this unexpected freedom so early in the day Peter just wanted to spend time by himself.

There was nothing wrong with that, he reassured himself and ignore the guilty feeling of not texting his friend back. Spending time with yourself was important. Balance was key and while their upstate vacation was fun he returned home tired. After all he thought of by the lake, all the changes he'd undergone, he wasn't a completely new person. He was still Peter Parker and sometimes he needed to be with himself.

Peter went into the back to grab his stuff. He spotted Barry on his way to the door in the front. The man was leaning against the counter, arms crossed on the glass case with his eyes trained on the small TV set up by the register. One red Converse rested on the other.

"Barry?" Peter spoke trying to gain the attention of his boss but the man didn't respond. He said his name again with the same lack of response. The news murmured in the back and Peter walked around the counter, curious to see what was monopolizing his boss's attention.

The camera was shaking. Blurry images focused and unfocused on the screen amidst dirt and chaos thrown into the air. The trembling stopped; the camera focused and everything seemed to pause.

Peter's breath lodged, trapped and turning stagnant, in his chest. The camera was stationary but what it captured was made all the more violent by this unnatural stop in motion. The outside world was silent, trapped in the spell the recorded world wove spinning regardless of its effects in brash action. Metal screamed on impact. Dust and debris streamed across the sky and Peter's eyes tried to follow every movement in anticipation.

The first thing his eyes zoomed in on was the blue suit. Hadn't he seen it on the TV only a month ago with that stranger? Captain America stood center screen, facing away and gesturing wide to someone he couldn't see. His back tensed. Muscles rippled under the taught fabric facing them. His dropped for a moment. The helmet with dipped out of sight before his back straightened again. His shoulders square and spine tall. Then he brought his arm up and lunged forward.

Something hit the ground.

Red and gold caught his eye.

Peter gripped the edge of the counter as blue hit the red suit, sending the cement cracking under the pressure. Why was he? How could Captain America attack… his fellow Avenger? His friend?

His knees threatened to buckle as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

Captain America and Iron Man. In battle.

Beyond those two frontal figures other superheroes were fighting. Using their powers against each other. Not against a villain or some common enemy. No, they were fighting amongst themselves.

Captain America stood above Iron Man. His feet near the man's head. Cement cracked in a grotesque halo around his head. The building behind them was on fire.

In the back of his mind Peter wondered how this was being recorded and broadcasted onto the TV. All those thoughts were stripped away when Mr. Stark, no, Iron Man, launched off the ground, toward the other man.

Their fight began in earnest. There were no more pauses, nothing to say there was any hesitancy left in either figure. The colors clashed on screen and a restless itching invaded his muscles and into his blood cells. He needed to do something. To run or distract or… something. But he didn't know where to go or what to do. Would he be welcomed? The most sickening prospect is he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything either way. Not in comparison to all of the special people already there.

Still, despite reaffirming these thoughts there remained the urge to run there and help Mr. Stark in any way he could.

Regardless of not being wanted or needed.

"Look at that there. Who would have thought good old Captain America would engage like that?"

Peter focused on the screen again. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck at the realization they were at a different location than before. The walls were dark and condensed the vision of the cameras making him feel claustrophobic.

Iron Man was standing apart from a figure shrouded in the shadows. The famous shield, the one Peter dreamed of holding as a child, was cast to the side. Scratches marred the star on the front. Captain America stepped out from his place by the wall with a frown. He said something as he looked Iron Man up and down. A faint, pleading look replaced his otherwise dour expression.

Punches were thrown and explosives detonated in the cramped quarters so quickly it was difficult to keep track of everything. Peter lost sight of Iron Man for a moment and his heart clenched until the faint glow of the arc reactor appeared from inside the dust cloud.

Peter couldn't think of him as Mr. Stark in that suit. His name refused to surface in Peter's mind with all the metal incasing him, protecting him. It created this distance and it would hurt too much to think of that as Mr. Stark fighting.

The shield was in his hands.

Everything was in slow motion. The itching grew and Peter needed to run, to scream, to stop it but he was helpless. Captain America brought the shield over his head. His knees were on either side of Iron Man's chest. The shield came down and slammed, stopped in time by Iron Man's hands. The shield came up again, higher than the previous time, and it was flying down.

His heart stopped. Iron Man's hands weren't enough to stop the energy behind the assault. Captain America stared down. Iron Man gazed upward, pain and a sort of grime acceptance in his eyes.

The shield came down faster than he could follow, the stars and stripes blurred by the motion. The results were confirmed with the denting of the red armor. The arc reactor fractured. Glass cracked and allowed the light to slip through the gaps.

The two men stared at each other. Their broken and torn up armor added unspoken meaning to the betrayed faces they wore. Iron Man's helmet came off and it was the first time he wasn't realized to see Mr. Stark's face. Before that moment there was still a doubt and hope it would've been someone else or empty. But no, Mr. Stark gasped for air while his hands clawed against his chest.

Those wide eyes and desperate movements were the last to appear before the TV went black. Peter was frozen. He was stuck in the fraught moment that had ended too soon and not soon enough on screen. The one he knew Mr. Stark was still living.

Barry said something. His eyes searched Peter's face but he couldn't look away from the screen now filled with headlines and news anchors. His boss moved around the counter and clapped him on the shoulder with another word Peter missed. He moved to the back of the store leaving Peter alone.

The person on screen was speculating about the possibilities of meaning this could mean for the Avengers and greater world. Their lips hurried through the broadcast but it was obvious they didn't know what was happening.

One particular sentence caught his attention.

"…and, of course, Tony Stark also under the alias, Iron Man, was on scene. While we don't know exactly what caused this rift between the group it is clear his motivations and actions are far from scrutiny given past indiscretions…"

His hands clenched at his sides at the smirk on the reporter. The tighter he squeezed the deeper his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. It was just like those people staring in the hallways of the Tower. Their faces all pressed against the glass to catch a glimpse and speculate about their boss. The news was the same. The amount of times Mr. Stark had joked about what they wrote about him was sickening.

Who were they that they had the right to say that? How was that fair?

Peter squeezed his hands harder, pushing his knuckles into the glass on the counter before storming out of the building. He didn't call out a goodbye to Barry or clock out of work. It didn't matter.

The wind swept through his hair and a chill descended onto his skin as he walked out. On pilot he steered through the crowds of people without making eye contact. His thoughts were miles away but his feet began the way to his apartment without prompting.

He couldn't help the tendril of worry curled in his stomach. It nested there and created a pit stuck like an anchor weighing down his body and thoughts. Mr. Stark had to be okay. He was Iron Man after all and the man had faced much worse. He'd always come out ahead every other time.

That was the defining difference though. Mr. Stark had faced worse enemies before but Captain American wasn't an enemy to Peter's knowledge. While Mr. Stark didn't talk about the Avengers often and Peter didn't want to pry, it was a kind word he spoke when he did. Peter never dreamed there would be discord in the world-famous group. They were the Avengers and to all outward appearances they were colleagues and friends. Everyone's aimed weapons. The scowls and grimaces. All the fighting in the back. All of it aimed at a teammate.

He thought of Julia, Frank, and Monica and shivered. Would they turn on each other given the chance? Peter shook his head at the wayward nature his thoughts were taking. He had to focus on what was happening now.

Mr. Stark's eyes and his hands holding onto his chest would be burned into his mind. The image of fissured glass and metal replayed over and over. Peter wasn't sure if he could remember to breath normally.

* * *

The subway ride passed by without notice as his thoughts whirled around in his head. Somehow Peter made it back to his room ensconced in the familiar warmth of his blanket. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to obliviate everything. For a selfish instant, all he wanted was to forget about the afternoon and all the baggage that came loaded with it. He should've helped. It was like there was this voice in the back of his mind that knew in some other universe he would have been strong enough to help in some way. It wasn't to be. He was here in his apartment under the covers in his bed. He was hiding from his aunt and her questions. He was hiding from himself and the disappointment he felt about it all.

Peter's phone rested against the pillow to his side. He ignored all the incoming text messages from his friends and instead scrolled through every social media and news outlet he could think of trying to get a crumb of new information. There were videos breaking down every scene of the footage released like a movie trailer. Everything was conjecture.

There was one option to find the truth.

Shaking hands dialed the contact and with minimal thought to convince himself out of this course of action, Peter pressed call. The lone sound that filled the air was the rings followed by Mr. Stark's voicemail. The man's voice, gentle and teasing, took Peter's breath away. He hadn't heard it in so long and yet it felt like yesterday. He remembered the story Pepper told him of how she forced him to set up the voicemail on his number.

"You know who it is. You're trying to call me so I'm supposed to say leave a number but don't. I'll find you." He could hear the phone being put down and Mr. Stark walking away while talking to his partner. "Are you happy now, Pepper?" He said and they both laughed.

She told Peter over dinner one night how stubborn the man was. How even though he was quick to right his wrongs, change came difficult for him, including, apparently, a new voicemail. The man had griped from across the table but winked at Peter when he insisted in defending Mr. Stark's honor and told Pepper he was the same way. He glanced up under his lashes when he spoke, confident for the first time that night, to see their eyes soften as they gazed at him.

He scowled at the memory and let the phone fall screen first onto his mattress before turning toward the wall. Peter tucked the blanket higher over his head and wished he had the courage to leave a voicemail, or to call one more time so he could hear their laughter again.

His stomach throbbed as he thought about his internship. He spent so many hours in the Tower over forged metal and takeout boxes with the man. All the time he agonized over if he should be there and listing everyway he wasn't good enough when it would've been, not easy because nothing was that easy, but worth it to forget about all that. How strange and how worth it would his internship have been if Peter had just accepted he was wanted there? At the time he rationalized he was doing everyone a favor. He was saving them from disappointment but maybe he was saving himself the potential hurt. Peter thought of his promise to himself to try and be happy and he realized maybe this was a part of it.

Osborn and his curled smile were the crux of this. The injection of that man into his life had closed off doors he was only beginning to see were available to him. If only he'd never gone to Oscorp.

It was no use thinking like that but his mind kept circling around the two men well into the morning. Nothing fruitful came of it and he was left with shadows darkening his eyes.

May tried to grab his attention. She loaded up his plate with toast and strawberries but Peter pushed it around. His homework beckoned him from his desk but as he sat there, Peter found his eyes wandering to the fire escape and beyond.

His feet pounded against the sidewalk as his walk turned into a run. Despite the screaming in his muscles and the pressure building in his lungs he continued forward, urged by the lack of thought his action was providing. He was so focused on his body he didn't have to think about Mr. Stark and why he was fighting with Captain America. Self-reflective thoughts were shoved down by the sound of his harsh breaths and for the moment Peter was running.

And it was heaven.

* * *

Thank each and every one of you for reading!

Let me know what you think :)


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